Now a' is done
by Coginom
Summary: Year 2018. Ziva's in a car crash. Tony's on assignment in Spain. What happened? And how does the team's bizarre case fit into all of this? Quality FanFiction, completed and complete with: established TIVA, McABBY and a big-a-doo CASE. R
1. Default Chapter

This could be, essentially, what we all love about the show: a nice mixture of criminal conduct, character-driven plot and relationships. While this story will be rather heavy on the relationships-part, there is quite the case woven through its plot, so there may be something for everyone in there…somewhere.

**Voilà, the premise:** Two years ago Tony seized his last chance at leading his own team and took on an assignment in Rota/Spain like he could have done several years prior. This time around, however, he left behind his life partner, Ziva David, with their two small children. While all of them - including the team at NCIS - try coming to terms with a long-distance family, what happens when fate steps in and they all need to pull closer together than ever?

**Voilà, the disclaimer: **I do not own NCIS or any of its characters, they belong to those whose intellectual property they are. No copyright infringement intended whatsoever.

* * *

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,  
In proving foresight may be vain:  
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men  
Gang aft agley,  
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,  
For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!  
The present only toucheth thee:  
But och! I backward cast my e'e,  
On prospects drear!  
An' forward, tho' I canna see,  
I guess an' fear!

Robert Burns, last two stanzas: **"To a Mouse"**

* * *

**2018.** Ziva David - not counting temporary operational stints, assignments abroad, visits and incarceration in an East African terrorist camp - had been living in the States for almost thirteen years now, about eight and a half of which as an US-American citizen. All this time she was living in D.C. where she now shared a small two-story apartment with her life partner and their two small children.

David Jethro Anthony DiNozzo was born on July 5th 2012 and Talia Rosalie Eliana DiNozzo was born on October 2nd 2015. Their father, Anthony 'Tony' DiNozzo, was a NCIS agent, just like their mother and virtually everyone they came to know as their family. Their parents were difference bi-personified turned into partners turned into lovers - David and Tali being irrevocable confirmation that Rule #12 had not only been broken by passion over and over again but also by sincerest devotion.

It did not matter to what Tony and Ziva shared as lovers that he had taken on a foreign assignment to help expanding the NCIS agency network in Europe via Rota/Spain in early 2016. It did, however, matter to what Tony thus could _not_ share as a father with two children he seemed to be growing further and further away from - until fate took center stage.

* * *

_Friday, November 15__th__ 2018_

Her mind felt like a tunnel to her, it was focused on one person only: her daughter. How could she miss it? Then again, she didn't even know what she had missed. She didn't know what the connection was, didn't even know what the connection even could be. All she knew, and she knew it for certain too, was that there _was_ a connection to this cat-and-mouse-game they had been playing for almost two weeks now. Something had felt off all the while. From the moment they had stepped onto that crime scene something had been off. She had felt it, she knew she had felt it. Still, she hadn't voiced her feelings. Gibbs must have felt it as well. My God, his gut must have known all along too. They were missing something, something important. And now nothing could be more important than Tali.

She banged her palms against the steering wheel at the third red light in a row, punching the brake pedal with her foot angrily. She had promised herself, even before the kids were born, that no child of hers would ever be sucked into this world, her world - essentially a world of crimes, of hatred, of assault, of revulsion. She had left Mossad to flee from its extremes, but she couldn't help it. She was part of it, even as a part of NCIS. And she wanted her children to be part of NCIS, but only the part that was her family, the part that was her team.

She wanted them to learn from their Uncle Gibbs the way she had learned from him - the way he had taught her, like a father his daughter. She wanted them to listen to their Uncle Ducky's stories the way she had always enjoyed listening to them over a cup of tea - she had long found his stories to be a good test for patience as well. She wanted them to indulge in paradox craziness like their Auntie Abby and remain the most loving person in spite of reality - there was no better way of learning that being different is a statement about oneself and not to others. She wanted them to be as pure at heart and driven as their Uncle McGee - she wanted them to see that true genius stems from doing the best with what one's dealt. She wanted them to be like their father, she wanted them to be like Tony in their own, tremendous way. She wanted them to be happy.

She smashed her foot against the gas pedal, her knuckles turning white as she grabbed the steering wheel even tighter. Every thought of safe driving, of anticipatory driving was wiped clear from her mind. Her foot continued pressing down on the pedal, overtaking one, two, three cars before swerving back into line just in time to catch the street narrowing due to road works.

This is where it had happened. This is where she had seen the woman in the blue Mercedes. Who was driving a blue Mercedes anyway? She had known. She had known her, driving that awfully blue Mercedes, but she hadn't been able to place her. She could have slapped herself - photographic memory my ass. She should have known. She should have known all along. Why hadn't she trusted her instincts? This time it would be costing her dearly.

No, she couldn't let that happen. She had promised them, she had promised her children she would keep them safe. _Bari veShalem_ - safe and sound. Her foot once again found its place on the gas pedal, once again pressing down on it with the heaviness of purpose. She was headed for NCIS headquarters. Everything would be alright. She would find her there. Both of them. One of them she would embrace in a bear hug and never let go again. And the other one she would kill. She knew who she was. She knew who she was acquainted with. She knew what they were planning. She could feel it.

She was driving 30m/s over the speed limit, when a black Sedan on the oncoming lane swerved to the left. Her foot was already on its intuitive way to hitting the brakes with full force and her face was already underway to contorting in horror - but it was too late. The black Sedan crashed into Tony's priced new car head on. Within seconds the two cars, both totaled, were the dead center of a massive traffic jam, oncoming cars left and right trying to avoid further crashes, witnesses and onlookers quickly gathering at the scene.

Amidst the masses of uh-ing and ah-ing crowds a man dressed in simple cargo pants and a white t-shirt didn't attract any further attention. His hair was dark, grey already setting at the edges, darkened glasses shielded his eyes and a slack smile crossed his face scanning over the heap of formerly car-like metal in front of him. His hand found its way to his belt, retrieving his cell. He dialed a familiar number and slyly held it to his ear, trying to let the chaos around him ring through to whoever he was calling.

In a bar in Washington's metro area a cell phone on a thinly carved mahogany table started blinking. The man looked at it curiously, narrowing his eyes at the furious caller alert. The leather of his chair squeaked in agony when he leaned forward. He took his cell with his free hand, grazing a button with his thumb to accept the call.

"It's done", a voice stated evenly on the other side. He could hear people screaming and sirens howling, the noise of chaos almost drowning out what he had waited so long to hear. Almost.

He flipped the cell phone shut and put it back on the table, distinctly closer to the ashtray now, farther away from him. He was waiting no more. His steel blue eyes gleamed in the smoky, faint-lit haziness of the room. His free hand instinctively tapped the gun attached to his belt, before he lazily draped it over the arm of the chair and leaned back, the leather squeaking again with his every move. He smiled lazily into his glass as he lifted it to his lips, tickling the taste buds on the inside of his mouth with the steeply sweet, auburn liquid. It was done.

* * *

At about the same time auburn alcohol trickled down the throat of a man in a bar in Washington's metro area, another cell phone rang in the squad room at NCIS headquarters at the Washington Navy Yard. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, just about to severely punch his computer for not complying, retrieved his cell from inside his jacket pocket and flipped it open without looking at the caller ID - he doubted he would be able to read it anyway. For a moment all he could hear was muffled chatter, he even made out the odd siren howling before a faint female voice breathed his name down the caller line.

"Gi-Gibbs." Ziva.

His eyes flew towards the TV on the other side of the bullpen where a breaking newsfeed on ZNN showed aerial shots of a damn nasty looking car crash near city center. His eyes widened with realization. It was her.

* * *

_So much for the teaser. Please tell me what you think and if anyone's interested in my continuing this._


	2. Love and red, red roses

**Here ya go:** Chapter 2, the follow-up to the default-teaser. Do take note of the date at the beginning - we are currently, for the time of this chapter, residing in the past, two weeks prior to the teaser-chapter. This is what some may call _'fluff'_, but Gauguin and I call it _'getting an idea'_ - or '_setting the mood'_ in lack of an even more hyper-used cliché-phrase.

An earnest and wholehearted THANK YOU to those of you who reviewed and a shout-out to those of you who added this story to their favorites and/or alerts - I would, of course, love to hear why you did that!

…**right, BTW:** I'm currently entertaining some sincere interest in the language of Ivrit or Modern Hebrew, so I meticulously try to be as accurate as possible with the few phrases I butcher with a latinised writing system. However, if there is someone out there reading this thing who speaks Hebrew or is in any way more adept at it than me (which is, frankly, not really hard to accomplish), do not hesitate to PM me! Every language deserves its proper use after all.

* * *

**Chap 2 Love and red, red roses**

_Two weeks prior: Saturday, November 2nd 2018_

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva was sitting at the desk in the little study she had been adamant they set up instead of a guest room when they had bought the apartment seven years ago. She was leaning back in the leather chair with her back almost turned completely towards the computer screen that was glowing with the most recent picture of Tali and David into the faintly lit darkness of the room. Her feet were resting on the arm of the couch that was framed by high book shelves on either side of the wall. A glass of Merlot, only a fourth of the dull red liquid left, stood near the edge of the desk where she had positioned it carefully and absentmindedly within her reach. Case files were stacked on the other side of the desk, temporarily discarded.

She was reading. She shook her head softly, a smile flickering across her face when her eyes met a particular word: פֶּרַח. She had been mildly upset when Tali had asked her for the Hebrew word for _'flower' _the other day in the park and she hadn't been able to give an immediate answer, David even beating her to it. Not speaking to anyone in fluent Hebrew except her Aunt Nettie every few months was taking a toll on her translating skills, she had thought at first. But David substituting for her momentary loss had relieved her even more than it had made her proud. Both of her children had proven to be very quick and willing to grow up bilingually - very much intensifying her inclination to put her elaborate language skills to a more sustainable use than being the go-to-woman for dealing with Interpol operatives at work.

It was almost four o'clock in the morning. Both Tali and David had long gone to bed. Tali had already woken up in the meantime and had relocated to Ziva's bedroom, going back to sleep almost instantly and only vaguely thrown off by the fact her mother hadn't actually been in her own room but had come from the study to tuck her back in.

In fact, Ziva was waiting for her date to arrive. Time difference, their hectic schedules and the children's varying sleeping patterns weren't exactly making things easy for them. Even though they talked at least once a day for half an hour during her lunch break - respectively, on his way to the office - those late-night/early-morning dates were still more important. They would always be trying to squeeze them in every week and alas, would succeed in actually pulling them off once a fortnight.

Suddenly the familiar inbox-ding of an IM caused her to mark the current page in her book before throwing it onto the couch and turning around to face her computer screen. The message was from a Joe Fox: "_you've got mail_."

She smiled and turned on the webcam on her computer. When she found a red rose and his emerald eyes staring back at her she chuckled, "Tony."

"I tried to cram that thing into the disk drive", he sighed, gazing wistfully at the rose in his hand, "Didn't work…obviously." He turned his face into his webcam and put on his best DiNozzo smile.

"I do appreciate your effort nonetheless", Ziva smiled.

For a second he felt lost in the image that presented itself in front of him by virtue of virtuality. Ziva was clad in the v-lined nightgown he had bought her the last time he had visited - almost four months ago. In that time he had only had the pleasure of peeling it off of her body once. Her hair was down, cascading over her shoulders in loose curls. She had obviously still not had it cut since his last visit either. Her dark ambers were staring back at him intently, her brows slowly furrowing.

"Tony?", she spoke softly.

His heart gave a small jolt at the slight tremor of concern in her voice. He missed that a lot, someone caring as much as she did - or someone caring as much as anyone on his old team would. "Give a man a few seconds to admire the most beautiful woman in the world", he answered sincerely.

With her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed slightly and her head turned a little to the side she generated a typical Ziva-look, but she could still feel her heart beating a tad bit faster than a second before. She had to admit, he was looking good himself. The Spanish sun had bestowed him with a constant tan, his hair was a bit longer still, and the scruff look he seemed to cultivate on a trademark basis now caused her to shuffle a bit in her seat. She never realized how much she was actually missing him until he turned up onscreen. Being able to talk to him while not having him close enough to touch was killing her ten times over.

He caught on to the pensive shadows growing on her face and decided to start on the actual conversation, trying to get both their minds off the obvious, "How's the crowd?"

She was glad for the distraction but her voice cooled down to sober evenness, "You missed her birthday, Tony."

"You've been saying that for weeks, sweet cheeks", Tony returned, trying hard to keep the lightness.

"It has been a month and the actual party was not until last week."

"I couldn't get away. You know I would've if I could've", he sighed, his eyes pleading with her. The fact he had missed Tali's birthday the second year in a row was eating away at him anyway. Personally, he could have contently done without Ziva's constant guilt trip. Or anybody's guilt trip for that matter: Abby glaring at him whenever her face turned up onscreen, a calendar that counted days to and from Tali's birthday embedded in each of McGee's e-mails and even good old Ducky carefully bringing up the little girl's birthday every time they had talked over the phone throughout the last month.

"I know that and part of me even understands that", Ziva explained truthfully, trying herself at some sort of reprieve.

"What with the other part?", Tony asked lightly, smiling.

"That part wants to kill you…slowly and painfully", she returned calmly.

"Ah right", he nodded, clearing his throat, "The Mossad part."

"No, Tony, the mother part."

There were moments in Tony DiNozzo's life - and really, they were few - when no quip, no remark, no quote in the world could make light of a situation. It weren't so much those grievous moments, those darkest moments in everyone's lives, those moments of crude sorrow when he found even the most ingenuous comment to be out of place. In actual fact, those were moments he believed them quite fitting for his comments seemed to be his only, midly effective coping mechanism. It were those moments when reality seemed to suck all air out of them because they were, for better or worse, truly real, that Tony DiNozzo was left speechless.

He kept looking at her intently. "I had to explain to our little girl that her daddy would not come to her birthday party", Ziva continued heavily, her tone laced with emotion, "Do you even realize what that meant…for her?"

"I do", he exhaled hoarsely, but his voice grew firmer when he continued, "I do, I really do. But I was in the middle of an investigation, I couldn't leave. I just…couldn't. Leave." He pressed the last part out through gritted teeth.

She knew his irritation wasn't directed at her, not directly at least. Maybe he was angry at fate, maybe at some powers that be, maybe at time difference or maybe at whoever had had the nerve to get themselves killed when Tali DiNozzo was throwing a birthday party on the other side of the big lake. His anger was irrational no matter what.

"David is trying for soccer in two weeks time", Ziva tried lamely, her eyes not meeting his but scanning the grain of the desk.

"I requested a two-month leave until beginning of next year", he stated blankly, staring at the screen.

This eventually re-captured Ziva's attention and she turned back into his purposefully wide, emerald green eyes. Two months would make it his longest on-end visit since his departure two years ago. He had never staid longer than three weeks - an entire month, once.

"It was granted. Yesterday."

* * *

It seemed like a distant memory to her, a dream even, now that it was coming back to her in sweet semi-consciousness. She cherished those moments at the start of a new day - a day without pressing schedules, work, school - when she could allow life to trickle down her mind bit by bit, when sounds around her were stifled by her subconscious distance to them, when she could decide to feel with every part of her body, part by part. She could hear the last remote chirping of a bird in the park outside her window - traffic appeared light enough on a Saturday morning to grant it the upper hand in the morning sound scenery. She could feel the cool of an apartment amidst winter chill surrounding her toes, but she didn't mind. She knew where her blanket was, after all. She could feel Tali tightly snuggled against her, the little girl's soft dark curls faintly grazing Ziva's bare upper arm. She could hear the three-year-old's soft snores muffled by where her face was turned into Ziva's side - snores Tony would not have refrained from pointing out were all Ziva. Then again, she would not have refrained herself from telling him that Tali's habit of snatching up the blanket all for herself was all Tony_. Tony…_

She had never once allowed herself those moments before she had received her second chance at life after Somalia…so many years ago. Before that she had been alert, conscious or subconscious, never letting her guard down, not once. But now, now was different. Everything around her made it to be so much different from everything she had known for the bigger part of her life. Not long and moments like these would be outnumbering her memories of a time in her life when survival wasn't the purpose but the thrill.

All this, however, didn't mean that she had lost any of her skills. Even though she was immersing herself in a subconscious reverie, she could still hear the fine scraping of wooden door against wooden paneling when the door to her bedroom was carefully opened further. She kept her eyes closed, but she could hear him shuffle along the floor, adeptly forging his way towards her side of the bed and taking a stand next to her bedside table. She opened her eyes just in time to meet his curious if drowsy eyes. His form was blurred against the hazy sunbeams of the winter morning and she had to smile at just how much he looked like the perfect angel with his light brown hair sticking into all directions of the sun.

She slung her arm around Tali's sleeping form and drew the little girl closer to her, shifting the little girl's weight onto her torso in order to move both of them over and make room for David. The little boy gladly slipped underneath the covers which Ziva had carefully retrieved from around Tali to cover all three of them. She brushed a kiss against his forehead when he put his head onto her upper arm. Much unlike Tali, who - just like her father - could sleep anywhere and preferably all the time, David had his definite sleeping pattern: When he was awake, he was awake. He didn't need much sleep either, something that hadn't changed ever since he was a baby and something that had had both Ziva and Tony going on two to three hours of sleep every day of the week for a whole year after his birth.

It wasn't unusual to have both of her kids lie in bed with her on a Saturday morning. First of all, she didn't work weekends anymore, not since Tony had left for Spain - a happenstance she owed almost entirely to McGee's understanding and dedication. Second of all, she could count the nights on one hand that Tali had slept through in her own bed. And third of all, those were some rare moments of Tali-quietness David seemed to consciously take advantage of for (almost-)one-on-one time with his mother.

Ziva watched him play with her silver Magen David pendant for a while, drawing circles on his shoulder, both indulging in the moment. Then, suddenly and quietly, his soft voice was carried through the silence of the bedroom, "You talk to daddy?"

Their webcam-dates weren't exactly a secret to the kids, but seeing as they were mostly held at ungodly hours when both of them were long asleep, they generally didn't take much notice of them. They had their own talk-to-daddy-schedules anyway, as Tony would call every few days to talk to David over the phone or they would set up their own little video conference so that he could talk to Tali, whose attention span usually didn't last long enough for semi-sensible phone conversations. But Ziva wasn't surprised by David's observation. Her little boy was picking up on everything around him, excessively so.

She nodded her head yes. "He said he was very sorry for missing Tali's party", Ziva added softly, knowing that David didn't take his father's absence lightly either. She knew David's solidarity with his sister had caused him to refuse talking to Tony all throughout the past week. David nodded absently, resuming playing with Ziva's pendant.

"He is coming home for a visit to make up for it in ten days time", Ziva tried again, this time catching David's full attention. The little boy let go of her pendant and looked up at her with hopeful eyes.

"Azoi?"

"Bechayai, tateleh", she smiled.

Sometimes David's behavior, his observations, his bearing, his efforts at braveness and understanding made her forget - if only for a moment - that he was just a little boy. But moments like these, when a hopeful glisten would shine through his emerald green eyes, reminded her full force that he was in fact still her little six-year-old boy who was missing his father. And just like that, anger and disappointment seemed to evaporate right in front of her eyes and a small smile settled firmly on David's lips. It reassured her too that it had been the right choice to tell him up front, even though Tony had relentlessly insisted on telling his son himself. Ziva, however, knowing her own and thus her son's relentless stubbornness, had reasoned that every conversation between father and son at that moment would have ended the same way, regardless of its content: David trying to hurt Tony the way he had seen Tony hurt Tali by not showing up, probably disregarding Tony's attempt at making amends altogether.

"Christmas?", David asked at once, a most pressing issue coming to his mind.

Ziva chuckled knowingly, "Yes, he will stay at least until Christmas."

"D'day Kissmas?", a small voice perked up suddenly from somewhere beneath the covers on Ziva's other side.

Both Ziva and David turned over to look at the new arrival in the land of the awake, even though Tali hardly ever looked like she was fully awake for good an hour after waking up. Her small chocolate brown eyes were still almost entirely hidden beneath her drooping eyelids, her dark curls dangling in front of her face like a veil of sleepiness and the way her voice sounded, faint and still - much different from her usual perky enthusiasm considering her new favorite subject in the world now that her birthday was a thing of the past -, it seemed the little girl wasn't fully ready to be awake yet.

"No, tateleh, Christmas is not until another one and a half months", Ziva explained with another soft chuckle, finding the sight of her daughter wholeheartedly amusing.

Tali's eyebrows furrowed in deep consideration. She eventually sat up and looked at Ziva with big brown eyes, "Dat long."

"Christmas will come sooner than you think, no need to worry", Ziva smiled, lifting herself up into a sitting position as well now that one of her arms was free, taking David along with her.

"An' then Sanna bwings all the pwessents for me and Deed", Tali started babbling away, using the name she had given her big brother as a baby and that had somehow stuck with him - and probably would until the end of time. Though, Tali was the only one who could call him _Deed_ without receiving a very Ziva-like death glare from the six-year-old.

Tali was now kneeling on the bed, jumping around on her knees enthusiastically while Ziva and David looked on, matching smiles adorning their faces, "An' we go da Unca 'ibbs an' make s'boat pwetty an' Unca M'ee an' Aun'ie Abby twakes us da Unca Du'ie an' we eat lotsa-"

"How about some breakfast first?", Ziva cut in softly, putting an index finger to her daughter's incessantly moving lips. Tali broke out into a grin, food being her next-most favorite activity beside sleep…and talking - all Tony.

"Yep-yep", Tali jumped up and down on the bed, letting her eager affirmation ring through the entire apartment - probably through the entire building, Ziva thought.

"No jumping on the bed, Tali", David reprimanded dutifully, while climbing out of the bed. Ziva smiled inwardly at her son's pure big-brother-ness while getting out of bed herself.

"Your brother is right, little one", Ziva confirmed calmly, a playfully evil glisten in her eyes. She bent forward and grabbed the little girl mid-jump, lifting her up into the air and holding her in place over her head, grinning at the toddler's excited fits of laughter.

"Mommy, lemme down!", the little girl called out between giggles, trying to reach the top of Ziva's head but her arms were a few frustrating inches too short.

"But I thought that is where you wanted to be?", Ziva stated innocently, her eyes wide with curio and her lips pursed so as to refrain from breaking out in laughter herself, "Way…way up." She lifted Tali a little higher even, so that her arms were fully stretched, causing the little girl to giggle even more.

"No, wanna down!"

"Down?"

"Yep!"

"Really down?", Ziva asked again, tilting her head to the side.

"Yep!"

"As you wish", Ziva said sweetly, pulling her daughter down against her chest, where the little girl immediately slung her arms around her mother's neck. Ziva could feel the little girl's heavy breaths against her skin as she recuperated from her laughter.

When Tali finally leaned back in Ziva's arms, Ziva couldn't hold back a chuckle at Tali's narrowed eyes. The little girl shook her head, "Silly mommy."

Ziva tried to keep a straight face, "Am I now?"

"Uhuuu", Tali nodded her head positively.

"I cannot believe you", Ziva said in mock-disbelief, turning towards her son, who was standing next to them, having witnessed their early-morning bustle with a grin lightening up his somber early-morning face, "Am I silly, tateleh?"

David looked back at her with raised eyebrows, laying his forehead in very Tony-like wrinkles. "You are silly", he confirmed solemnly, pointing at his little sister, "And you are silly too, mommy", pointing then at Ziva, who tried to look taken aback with that continuous smile on her face. Then he pointed at himself with both of his thumbs, "And I'm hungry."

Ziva chuckled. "Well then, breakfast it is", she announced, already following David out of the bedroom with Tali in her arms. Yes, she so much cherished those moments at the start of a new day.

Breakfast on weekends always occupied a lot of their time and in the most holistic way too. During the week eating was probably the most in-between activity of their lives. Ziva herself never ate breakfast. She usually made do with a cup of jasmine tea that she would pick up on her way to work or - as did happen fairly often considering her daughter's virulent adverseness to early morning wake-up-calls - that McGee or Gibbs would pick up _for _her. David would already be munching on his breakfast while Ziva would still be fighting Tali's attempts of _"no yet, mommy"_, causing breakfast to be usually eaten in the car on their way to preschool. Lunch would generally hew to Ziva's workload, David mostly eating lunch at school and Tali, having been picked up by their nanny, Sarah, eating lunch at home. Ziva picking them both up during her lunch break, which she would habitually spend calling Tony and wolfing down take-out, was so unusual that it would usually lead to both kids begging to call it a day and go home or accompany her back to NCIS. And she would usually cave, taking them back to work with her as long as they really weren't working any cases. Dinner was probably the only fixture. If Ziva got off work early enough she would make it herself and if she didn't, Sarah would cook and leave something for Ziva. But not so on weekends.

They spent most of the morning eating away at what they had prepared in a team-effort which consisted of David actually trying to help her prepare while Tali cheered them on from the sidelines of the kitchen table. Having a daughter like Tali, who loved talking with a passion only rivaled by her own father, lead to incessant babbling anyway, David throwing in his two or three cents at the appropriate places. Ziva mostly leaned back and enjoyed the entertainment, her part that of passive question-asking and sometimes active civilizing of their banters. The moment they had enough of eating and talking, talking and eating would seamlessly merge into a different activity, may that be a trip to the park, visiting Uncle Gibbs, playing a game,… The alternatives actually seemed quite endless to Ziva, some of them calling for her partaking, fewer not.

Today, however, Tali had opted for her birthday presents to entertain her instead of her mother or brother, most of them littered all over the living room floor in a matter of seconds. It left Ziva the chance to put away the remnants of breakfast while still keeping an eye on her energetically and now fully awake daughter. When she turned to retrieve the last of the dishes, her eyes fell onto David standing in the doorway to the kitchen, a book and writing utensils clasped under his arm.

Ziva smiled at the expectant glisten in his eyes. "Living room", she decided knowingly, answering the question that didn't need to be asked anymore.

She quickly wiped down the kitchen table before stepping into the living room herself. To her left Tali was rattling away to her army of stuffed animals, many of which were brand new additions to her collection owing to her recent birthday party. To her right David had already spread his things all over the living room table, carefully preparing everything for her arrival to the scene. She swiftly stepped over to Tali, dropping a kiss on her head which caused the little girl to look up and smile a toothy smile back at her. Then she walked over to her son and settled down on the floor, stretching her legs under the table and leaning up against the couch.

The little boy scooted closer to her and put the book in front of them. She placed an index finger under the first word on the opened page and he started reading, the words coming out of his mouth clear - even if at some points a little shaky - Hebrew. His forehead was scrunched up in concentration while Ziva listened closely, nodding along or helping him out with some of the more difficult words.

"Kol HaKavod", Ziva praised softly after an especially difficult paragraph.

"Todah", he returned, looking up at her with a proud smile on his face.

"Bevakasha!", Tali threw in excitedly, turning up next to her mother with a broad grin adorning her face.

Even though Ziva was adamant both of her children grow up bilingually and regularly talked to both of them in Hebrew, she didn't want to force anything on them. Ziva wanted them to slowly grow into wanting it. While David was already urging her on with his ceaseless motivation to learn his mother's native tongue, telling her over and over again how he liked the way her voice sounded when she spoke it, Tali was still in the catch-a-phrase kind of phase. Hearing the word for _"thank you"_ amidst a jumble of words she would have had a hard time understanding if she had listened closely - let alone if they were merely some sort of background mumblings to her game - she couldn't help but throw out what she knew went with that word most often than not: _"you're welcome"._

"Tov me'od, tateleh", Ziva smiled, leaning forward to kiss Tali's nose. Giggling and obviously very proud of herself, Tali instantly returned to her own game, now offering a _"bevakasha"_ to all of her stuffed animals.

Their late morning didn't differ much from then onwards: David and Ziva reading Hebrew fairytales with Tali occasionally joining in, showing an especially pretty new toy off for Ziva to admire exaggeratedly and ultimately settling down in Ziva's lap to make her near starvation known around lunchtime. Ziva eventually put in a movie - another passionate habit both kids had thankfully inherited from their father - to occupy them while she made lunch, joining them half an hour later and, under cheers, allowing lunch to be eaten in the living room.

While she was busying herself in the kitchen with putting away the dishes once again, the kids finishing up the movie in the meantime, the doorbell rang. Tali immediately shot up from the couch which was a rather hard thing to accomplish considering her short legs weren't even long enough to bend over the edge of the couch. Her eagerness didn't go unnoticed by Ziva's Mossad trained eyes.

"Tali, you know what to do!", she called after her daughter and hoped to have heard a lazy _"ken"_ float back to her when she re-entered the living room. David appeared unfazed by the commotion around him, completely immersed into his umpteenth time of _"WALL-E". _Ziva had to chuckle at his perfect TV-face.

Tali meanwhile eyed the front door of the apartment with curious suspicion. "Who's 'ere?", she exclaimed dutifully, trying to make her voice sound as authoritative as possible.

"It's Auntie Abby, Tally-Wally", Abby's chipper voice was carried in from outside the door using Tali's nickname that nobody seemed to use but Abby. In the forensic analyst's logic, seeing as Abby's was the only name - except for _mommy _and, on occasion, _daddy_ that is - Tali could currently pronounce correctly, it was only fair of her to distort Tali's name.

Ziva had just turned up behind her daughter where she was instantaneously greeted by Tali jumping up and down in front of the door, informing her enthusiastically that _"Abby, Aun'ie Abby, Aun'ie Abby!"_ was waiting to be let in. Ziva found Abby's unannounced visit a little odd as she had expected her best friend for later in the evening. Still, she had to smile at the ten million ways in which one could arouse her daughter's enthusiasm and opened the door to reveal an abundance of hats and gloves and jackets and sweaters, beneath which she was sure to find Abby Sciuto…somewhere.

Abby had just stepped into the apartment, Ziva locking the door behind her, when one last _"Aun'ie Abby!"_ announced Tali instantly tackling Abby, demanding to be picked up.

In the matter of incessant talking Abby had absolutely found her match in Tali. "Aun'ie Abby?", Tali asked endearingly the moment she had settled into Abby's arms.

"Yes, Tally-Wally?", Abby answered sweetly.

"Shim has lotsa new fwiends now", Tali assessed earnestly, both adults trying to stifle their laughs at the mere cuteness of the toddler.

_Shim_ was practically a replica of Abby's stuffed hippo Bert (sans farting noises) that Tali had gotten from Abby for her second birthday. In lack of a more creative name McGee, unnerved by them endlessly throwing around the craziest names, had suggested to name the hippo _Bert Two_ and get it over with. Two being _shta'yim_ in Hebrew and Tali missing a few teeth too many to pronounce that word correctly, Bert Two had eventually become Shim - and staid that way ever since.

"An' d'ay all wanna meet Aun'ie Abby", Tali continued, already shuffling in Abby's arms into the direction of where her animal-army was garrisoning the living room.

"Tali, let your Auntie Abby at least take off some of her clothes first", Ziva interjected, putting a loose curl of Tali's hair behind her ear.

"No need, I won't be long anyway", Abby threw in quickly, looking from Ziva to Tali and back, "I just came by to tell you we'll have to take a raincheck…if that's okay with you that is?"

"Yes, yes, of course. Is something wrong? You could have called me on the phone", Ziva answered, worry ringing through immediately.

"No, no! Nothing's wrong", Abby assured her, "It's just… That adoption agency assessment woman comes by tomorrow and you know how Tim can get when it comes to that whole adoption craziness…"

Ziva nodded knowingly. After finding out that they could not conceive naturally, Abby and McGee had eventually agreed upon adoption. And even though they were both thrilled to adopt and Ziva personally could not think of any child that could be more lucky than to get her best friends and colleagues as their parents, McGee still obsessed about it whenever he could. Both Ziva and Abby rightfully suspected that he was blaming himself for their difficulties, despite them both having undertaken fertility exams and refused to find out whose infertility and/or sterility was cause.

"And I didn't wanna call 'cause it was already three when I left the Navy Yard and I didn't wanna wake Tali in case…you know…the little munchkin was actually taking her nap already", Abby added the last part upon pinching Tali's cheek. Tali smacked at Abby's hand in obvious discomfort but her slight smile told a slightly different story.

"That we still have ahead of us today", Ziva said, looking at her daughter who was rubbing her eyes as if on cue, "But soon, I think."

Abby smiled. "You sleepy, little sleepyhead?", she asked Tali, tilting her head forward so that her forehead was touching the toddler's.

Tali faintly nodded her head, her smile replaced by a worn-out look on her face, her arms shooting towards Ziva at once. Both women smiled a knowing smile as Abby gently handed Tali over to her mother, where the little girl settled her head against Ziva's shoulder, looking drowsily at her Auntie Abby from beneath her fallen curls. Ziva chuckled inwardly, still taken aback by how effortlessly Tali could go from hyper-active persistence to dead-tired equanimity. It could happen in the blink of an eye. It would only take a moment of failed anticipation, a moment of unavailable occupation and exhaustion would take over. It was simply amazing how different her two children were - in many aspects, true, but most evidently concerning their sleeping habits. As a toddler David would never go to sleep during the day. Putting him down for a nap had proven inane by the time he had hit the landmark thirteen months. He had been completely alert to everything going on around him, refusing to miss but a second of it. Tali, when in familiar surroundings, would wear herself out with merely satisfying her relentless need to occupy herself. And Tali absolutely always found something to occupy herself with, very well alone when no one was on hand to abide by her wishes. Again and again Ziva found herself thanking her Mossad training and thus her uber-par sensoring abilities for allowing her to keep Tali out of trouble - or at least _dangerous _trouble, as the former did happen fairly often anyway.

Abby on the other hand was always reminded of a clockwork toy when it came to Tali - quite the fitting description if you thought about it. You could wind up the toy at the beginning of the day - preferably with food - and watch it go along with the ebb and flow of it - or _sprint_ along in Tali's case - and then at some point that toy would just keel over with no sap left. Whenever that happened the three-year-old would either retreat to her room and lie down herself - Sarah already knowing where to look for the little girl if things were getting too eerily quiet - or get Sarah to tuck her in one way or another. If Ziva was available, however, Tali would opt for way more theatrical décor. For Abby those were - in her semi-blinded world of continual Tali-cuteness - easily the cutest moments to watch between mother and daughter.

On her way out, Ziva holding the door open with a hardly free hand, Tali's eyelids were already halfway covering her glassy eyes. In a spur for more privacy the little girl had turned her head into the crook of Ziva's neck, breathing shallowly against her mother's skin. One tiny hand was clutching the rim of Ziva's neckline, the other dangling lazily from Ziva's shoulder. Abby smiled at the pair one last time, bidding her goodbye and promising thrice to call later in the evening or at least the next day for a detailed account of their meeting with the woman from the adoption agency. Closing the door behind her best friend Ziva lingered for a moment, hoping that their meeting would go well. She knew with her heart that Abby wasn't postponing their weekly coffee for McGee's anxieties - at least not for McGee's anxieties alone. Ziva had detected those slight traces of nervousness in the Goth's voice. She knew Abby was scared of anything that could jeopardize their chances at adoption.

Ziva heaved a sigh and eventually returned to her present task of putting her daughter down for a much-needed nap as she felt Tali growing increasingly heavy in her arms. By the time they reached Tali's room, soft snores proved that the little girl was already far off in dreamland. Ziva pulled the blankets back that were still crumpled from the other night and gently laid her down on the bed, tucking the sheets tightly around the little girl. She brushed her hair from her forehead and placed a quick kiss on the three-year-old's head before drawing the shades, leaving the door slightly ajar on her way out.

It was almost half past four when David's movie ended and Ziva, having joined him on the couch for the grande finale, suggested a game of his choice. They hadn't been playing for long when the phone rang and Ziva rushed to get it so that it wouldn't wake Tali. Even though the little girl could be the epitome of cuteness and self-entertainment, her cranky version was neither a sight nor an equivocal pleasure to behold. She wasn't surprised to hear Tony's voice on the other side. He knew that their weekends in were usually uneventful, hence they didn't sojourn long on general topics, Ziva briefly mentioning Abby and McGee's progress in the adoption process before complying with Tony's request to talk to his son.

"Your daddy wants to speak to you", Ziva informed her son, handing over the phone and trying to reassure the traces of uneasiness on his little face with a benevolent smile.

"Hello daddy."

That's all Ziva heard before leaving the living room for the study in order to give David some privacy. But the easily detectable delight in her son's voice upon receiving his habitual daddy-call assured her that everything would be alright - at least in the David department. Granted, Ziva had had to deal with David's increasingly ambivalent feelings towards their living arrangement for quite some time now. He wasn't letting it on too much, but Ziva knew her son. She had noticed some kind of minor shift in his behavior, sometimes not often, but evident enough for her: He was gradually starting to build up defensive mechanisms so as to keep himself from hurting too much when his father would leave once more. Again and again Ziva had been left to explain the concept of duty to her six-year-old son - and to say the least, it wasn't her favorite part about motherhood.

David wasn't worrying her the most, though. She knew in her heart that David would try to understand. It was too much to ask from a six-year-old, she knew that as well. She would have rather had him cry and scream and curse them for having to live with a part-time father, but he always tried to understand. David always tried to understand. Tali, however, was too young to try. She had never known Tony the way David had, she had never known Tony for the father he could be. It was almost ironic that Tali was so much like her father, so much like Tony - just not around Tony. She was shy around new people or rather: She was observant. She didn't trust easily, but unlike Tony wouldn't hide behind jokes and pranks. She would _"observe and asses"_ as Gibbs had once called it.

Ziva knew that she had been putting off telling Tali about Tony's two-month-leave for the sake of not knowing how to say it and, what's even more, for the sake of not knowing what the little girl's reaction would be. She sighed heavily, sitting down at the desk and absentmindedly pulling the only picture on it towards her. It had been taken right after Tali's birth, one of their few four-people-family-pictures: It showed Tony kneeling beside Ziva's hospital bed with a three-year-old David perched on his shoulders, the little boy's hand resting on his baby sister's head while Tali was sleeping contently in Ziva's arms. She put the picture back on its usual spot, discarding her heavy thoughts upon David entering the study in search for her. Ziva immediately scanned the little boy's face for clues as to what father and son had talked about. He seemed unfazed enough, though. Ziva knew not to pry for David would come to her and talk about it in his own time if something was bothering him.

Mother and son went back into the living room to resume their game until Tali waddled into Ziva's lap over an hour later, innocently inquiring about dinner. After letting both children help with its preparation, dinner itself consisted mostly of Tali babbling on about the dream she had had, gathering opinions from her mother and brother as to the possibility of it actually coming true - it did include giant hippopotami, so Ziva tried to phrase her doubts as carefully as possible. After having given both children their baths and left David to the task of selecting movies to watch or books to read with Ziva after his little sister's bedtime - one of the few perks of being the older one as he liked to point out - Ziva was tucking Tali in for the night.

They had just finished their customary chapter of Tali's favorite book, the little girl tightly snuggled into her mother's side, when Ziva eventually decided to tell her daughter. She closed the book and put it on the nightstand, tilting her head a little so that she could look directly into her daughter's chocolate brown eyes. "Tali?", she inquired softly, first wanting to make sure that the little girl was awake enough to process the information.

Tali immediately lifted her head up, their eyes meeting in curious anticipation. "In a few days your daddy will come to visit again", Ziva said, choosing her words delicately. She knew telling the three-year-old how incredibly sorry her daddy was for missing her birthday would be entirely redundant. Ziva had felt like a broken record all throughout the last two weeks.

"For Kissmas?", Tali asked shyly, her eyes dropping to the pink pattern of her sheets.

"Yes, for Christmas and because he misses all of us very much", Ziva affirmed gently, lifting a finger to her little girl's cheek to stroke it, adding decidedly, "Just like we miss him very much as well."

Tali took some more moments to mull this new piece of information over in her mind before raising her eyes to meet Ziva's once again. "Otay", she stated plainly.

Not knowing what else to say and seeing Tali's eyes starting to droop, Ziva simply nodded her head at her daughter, smiling and standing up from the bed. She held the blanket up so Tali could get comfortable, Ziva whispering a soft _"Layla tov"_ before tucking the blanket in around her daughter. Shim tightly clasped under her arm, Tali's eyes were already closed and her breathing was already evening, when Ziva switched on the little nightlamp and exited the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Downstairs in the living room David greeted her with his movie-choice. Ziva took a brief d-tour to the kitchen, retrieving smores and sweets, a tea for herself and a cup of cocoa for David and put them down on the table in front of them. When she settled down on the couch David instantly scooted closer, cuddling up to her while she put a blanket on top of them. She adored those moments of quiet and quite simple bliss, but when a coral reef turned up onscreen, surrounded by a light flooded, deep blue ocean, Ziva couldn't help but be carried back to Tali's completely unperturbed reaction. The simplicity of the little girl's_ "Otay"_ resounded in her head. Throughout his sporadic in-between visits Tony had never given Tali enough chance to fully get to know him. They would start from scratch each time around. And when a barracuda appeared amidst the ocean on their TV and David's sudden tensing caused her to put an arm around him, Ziva just hoped those two months would be enough for Tali to get to know her own daddy - for real, this time around.


	3. Out, out, brief candle!

**Cheers: **THANK YOU once again for your kind reviews, even though they are quite sparse in comparison to who added this story to their favorites and alerts. I'm not the kind of author to use quicker updates or continuing as a bribe for more reviews (I simply and mostly do not have the time for quicker updates and I will definitely continue this), but I would sincerely appreciate your thoughts. Maybe you can get around to dropping me a few lines down the road.

**Recap: **Tony, having been on assignment in Spain for about two years, has been granted a two-month leave, arriving ten days from now. As we immerse ourselves in the day-to-day life of Ziva and their two children, Tali and David, we know from past experience (chapter ONE, that is) that Ziva will have had a car accident 12 days from now. Whatever happened in-between?

* * *

**Chap 3 Out, out, brief candle!**

_Sunday, November 3__rd__ 2018_

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Tali DiNozzo's eyes shot open. The sheets were clasped tightly around her little body, her head atop her favorite stuffed hippo as she seemed to have mistaken Shim for her pillow somewhere along the nightline. She pulled Shim from beneath her head, plopping back against the much softer material of her pillow, while her eyes were adjusting to the dim light in her room. Her fairy lamp was emitting a soft shimmer of light, but not enough to expunge the eerie darkness of their apartment late at night. It was one o'clock in the morning to be exact. She staid for a few more moments, eyeing the partially opened door to her room purposefully over the rim of her bed clothes and the tip of her toes beneath them.

With firm determination she eventually threw the covers off and sat up straight. Shim tightly clutched under her arm, she turned, put her legs over the edge of her princess bed and jumped down, her feet landing quietly on the carpeted floor. Her PJs tangled, she set off on her subconscious march towards her mother's room just diagonally opposite her own on the upper floor of the apartment. The door to her destination had, in anticipation of the habitual, been left slightly ajar as well. Tali's little hand pushed back the door some more, her feet flying over the wooden paneling and towards her mother's side of the bed - the other one routinely unoccupied, but not for long.

As if on cue, Ziva's eyes opened drowsily. She had not been asleep for a full hour yet. After their second movie of the night Ziva had carried a sleeping David up into his bed, using some child-free time to continue reading her book before almost falling asleep herself. Now she was staring into the expectant orbs of her daughter's chocolate brown eyes. As of late less and less further explanations regarding Tali's late-night or early-morning visits were being exchanged, both mother and daughter very eager to get on with their sleeping and simply taking it for what it was: a phase Ziva had no intention of suppressing or stopping untimely and a phase Tali had no intention of suppressing or stopping with any time soon.

Thus, Ziva bent over and lifted the three-year-old up on the bed. She shuffled over to make room for Tali's little body - even more so as her daughter's expressive and elaborate way of sleeping, throwing arms and legs as far from her a possible, was a painstakingly well-known fact to her. Ziva put the sheets around both of them, leaning over to make sure Tali was fully covered before pulling the little girl closer to her. Shim took, as was often the case, the place between them, while Tali turned into Ziva's side, the three-year-old's head resting on her mother's shoulder. Ziva took to caressing Tali's wayward curls in an attempt to soothe the little girl back to sleep, but as usual not much motherly effort was needed there anyway. Tali was fast back to sleep, occasional snores heralding her deep and content slumber. Ziva released a soft smile into the nightly nothingness before surrendering to sleep once more as well.

* * *

**Two blocks east:**** Lester Street, bench in front of Number 16**

In his many years of experience he had found broad delight to make for quite the adequate, most often than not even the best hide-out. And he was constantly hiding out, he was on the run. He had been on the run longer than he cared to remember. Those days when he had watched his father's health deteriorate, those days when he knew, simply knew that they would be his last days spent in sincere freedom - if ever someone like him had indulged in what others call freedom - were a hazy mess of memories to him. Everything had happened fast; everything had had to happen fast. He had acted fast. Thus he had ended up right here and there.

Granted, this wasn't exactly broad daylight in the truest sense of the word. It was around one o'clock in the morning, he didn't care to check his watch. The streets were almost deserted, at least the ones surrounding him. He could hear distant crowds and far-away commotion. For once he was not part of it, not part of the flow - for once he was part of the ebb. He took a deep breath. It was the only freedom he allowed himself, once a day: a deep breath when silence would surround him. He could feel the cool metal of his gun against his skin where he had quickly shoved it to rest against the small of his back, held in place by the waistband of his denims. He had just come back from meeting a contact, a go-between, when he had received the call. He had changed, put on a clean shirt and a jacket, took his gun without grabbing a holster - his knife never leaving his side anyway - and run the few miles to the arranged venue. He had always enjoyed a good run. He was enjoying way too few of them as of late. He was enjoying few things, not only as of late, actually. Thus he came to sit on a bench on Lester Street, his eyes and ears sharpened for the moment but still, he had enjoyed his breath of freedom for today. He felt content enough.

When a someone took the seat next to him, someone fairly shorter than him, less robust, less athletic, his steel blue eyes didn't divert. He didn't move to look at the new arrival on the late-night scene. Instead he kept looking around, his blue eyes blazing through the thick darkness of the early morning. The other man was clad in simple jeans and a t-shirt as well, but his long black coat seemed comparatively expensive. His blonde-brownish hair was neatly combed - as opposed to the other man's wayward mat of thick black hair - into a 50s fashioned, grease-induced haircut. He finally lifted his piercing green eyes to scan the darkened window displays on the other side of the street.

Not looking or acknowledging each other, the green-eyed man in the black overcoat stated blankly, his voice thick with a cunning edge, "It's time we started."

The blue-eyed man, putting his hands into the pockets of his green jacket, answered just as evenly, his voice, however, much darker and deeper, "It is not confirmed yet." Even after all these years, his accent was still apparent. Then again, he didn't do much talking, now did he.

"But she has been seeing-"

"No, I want proof. I need her to say it."

"Everything we have gathered points into the same direction. It's her."

"Looks differ but not the way she would say it", the blue-eyed man argued, his voice unwavering with emotion. His voice sounded as monotone as the silence surrounding this unlikely pair.

The other man quickly turned his gaze, focusing on the other man with unvoiced wonder in his emerald green eyes for a brief moment before turning back to scrutinizing the shops across the street. After another moment of affirmative silence, he started again, "Still, we can launch the overture. I think we've done enough tuning."

"It is quite a complicated set-up", the man said randomly, turning around to confirm the scared arrival and assure the quick departure of a cat with a simple look of blazing blue color, "Quite…theatrical."

"You're Tarantino, I'm Shakespeare", the green-eyed man let a smug smile flicker across his thin-lipped mouth, "You've gotten overly used to bloody messes."

"It has proven effective in the past."

"And foolish too", the overcoat-man asserted quickly, sitting up straight, "This is going to work, believe me. Everything about its…theatricality is going to work."

"How can you be sure?", the man turned his sapphire blues, for once and for the first time, to meet the other one's emeralds.

He narrowed his eyes with eyebrows darker and thicker than his light and thin hair and said easily, "Because I know how _they_ work."

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva had spent almost all morning staring at the ceiling. She couldn't shake off some kind of strange feeling, a kind of premonition. Mossad had left her quite paranoid, she knew that for a fact. Still, something seemed off. She could feel it. Something was about to happen. Her instincts had never failed her - it was she who had failed her instincts more than once. Past mistakes. Yet Ziva David had come to rely on something as simple as fate. Lying in a king-sized bed in her own apartment in D.C. and having her little three-year-old daughter tightly snuggled against her, made it hard to believe otherwise. If it hadn't been for past mistakes, who knew? Maybe she would not have her two children now and she couldn't imagine a life without them. Granted, basically leading the life of a single mother for the most part of a year was challenging, but she managed. They managed. They were leading a good life. They had a lot to be thankful for. _She_ had a lot to be thankful for. That's one thing Somalia had taught her the hard way: damn well appreciate what you've got.

Henceforth she couldn't shake off the odd feeling of uneasiness, but she knew how to ignore it by now - and enjoy. She had eventually given up on going back to sleep and climbed out of bed, leaving Tali to the vastness of the double bed, and quietly crept down into the kitchen to start on breakfast. If anything, she could enjoy the simple quietness of the apartment before waking time. Even though the stillness surrounding her was nice, comforting even, she wouldn't have wanted it to last. There had been times in her life when she would relish the thrill of a mission, the moments of sweet anticipation, the moments within hails of bullets, the adrenalin flow during a fight, the stabbing thumps of her heart pounding insanely against her rip cage in a fleet second between life and death. Somalia, however, had marked the moment in her life when she had effectively put her assassin past behind her. She had embarked on that mission with the sure thought in her mind that she would die. She had never counted on living long enough to turn forty anyway, even though working as the liaison officer at NCIS had often brought her on the verge of hoping she would. The loyal killer within her had died on that mission, though, and what had been left of her had started adapting to a way of life far different from what she had known ever since she was eight years old.

Still, of course, Ziva David was and would always be in essence Ziva David: a kidon operative trained by Mossad. This essence, however, had distended over the years and pieces had been added that overruled what had been there since the beginning of her: Ziva as a fiercely loyal friend, a passionate lover and a devoted mother of two. She loved her work, she loved what she did for a living. She had never known anything else but she knew she was good at what she was doing. The life-death-ratio was part of the job description, she knew that right well. Unlike those years before Somalia had happened and changed her outlook on life, however, Ziva could now relish the bustle of children around her, her _own_ children. The sigh she heaved when David turned up in the doorframe with sleep still apparent in his eyes wasn't a sigh of disappointment heralding the end of a quiet morning - it was a sigh of appreciation for she got to live another day, no matter how challenging it might be.

After breakfast, Ziva was sitting on the couch in the living room trying to finish her book. She was facing the far side of the room where David was - inanely, to say the least - trying to teach a simple card game to his little sister. Tali was a greatly energetic little girl. In familiar surroundings she would be literally bouncing off the walls. People - especially people in her preschool - would sometimes point out doctors to Ziva, cautiously hinting at ADHD and commonly receiving a benevolent smile and an equally benevolent, yet forceful rejection from Ziva. Her little girl was three years old and she would not drug her into submission - she had had enough of that in her own childhood, thank you very much. In a family like theirs - including their extended family at NCIS -, a family of strong and vigorous characters, Tali was one among equals and collecting attention with a passion. She was curious, lively, active - the supplementary opposite of her brother. Whilst David would have sat down quietly, observing and absorbing every bit of new information about a game, Tali quite simply did not.

Ziva wasn't really getting on with her book anyway. Every few moments she would lift her eyes from the written word to the sheer reality of her two children, for one to watch out for potential fights and other than that she just loved watching them together. Both were sitting on the floor, cards scattered between them. David was holding some while Tali was trying hard to hold onto hers, staring intently at them.

David's forehead was set in wrinkles, looking crossly. "You have to draw one of mine, Tali", David explained evenly, a tremor of exasperation escaping his lips.

Ziva had to smile. He was failing miserably, even though the game had initially been Tali's idea after having watched her mother and brother play the day before. But David seldom burst. He would glare, his voice would shift increasingly into a tone of frustration, but he seldom started yelling - not at his little sister, not at anyone and especially not at his little sister. Tali, however much appreciating her big brother's composed persona, loved playing with it nonetheless, teasing him with the sole purpose of breaking his composure. Some people might not believe three-year-olds capable of such a cunning feat, but Ziva knew whose children her children were - she would have never put something like that past either of them, especially past Tali.

Tali, her face one of utter concentration, lifted her hand and snapped a card from David's loose grip. Her face broke out into a grin. "I gotta da bad man", she said enthusiastically, showing the card off to her brother.

Ziva smiled at her daughter dubbing the card of the black cat - getting rid of which was the actual purpose of the game - that of the_ "bad man"_. Ziva had played that game with her own siblings countless times throughout their childhood in Tel Aviv. She distinctly remembered herself calling the black cat on the card the _"bad man"_ too, growing up with the understanding that her papa was ridding the world of bad men - long before realizing that Eli David's vision was strangely blurred. She remembered how she, mistakenly, loved drawing and keeping that card too. And she remembered Ari teasing her with it well into puberty, always telling her that she was having feelings for the bad men. A wistful smile settled on Ziva's face.

"Tali, you're not s'posed to like that card", David stated once again. It seemed to be the hundredth time this morning.

"But da bad man don' have no one", Tali reasoned adamantly, forcefully shoving her favorite card into her deck, almost knocking the other cards out of her little hand.

Every player was dealt the same number of cards. Each card was featuring the picture of an animal, colorfully and excessively adorned with props - the animal was either female or male. In each round one had to draw a card from the other player's deck, the aim of doing so being to lose all your cards by coupling the female and male animal of each species. The one left with the single card of the black cat would lose the game. Yes, the black cat was single - which was both its appeal and source of sympathy to Tali.

"But you'll lose if you keep it."

"Wanna keep it."

"No."

"Too", Tali said, her voice growing louder, and put her tongue out to her brother.

"No one likes the bad man", David reasoned teasingly, trying to ignore his sister's attitude.

"Me do", Tali unconsciously drew the cards closer to her body.

"Bad men are s'posed to be alone."

"Uh-uh", Tali shook her head, jumping up in order to procure more of an authoritative stance for herself.

"Mommy and Uncle Gibbs and Auntie Abby and Uncle Timmy make sure all the bad men go away all alone, so they don't hurt nobody no more", David exclaimed triumphantly, raising his eyebrows at his little sister.

Ziva had to smile at his words from her position on the couch. They still weren't biting their heads off, so it was safe to listen and enjoy for now. Both children knew - in the vaguest sense possible - that their extended family was looking for bad men and trying to put them away, so they couldn't be bad anymore. And Ziva had every intention of keeping the extent of their jobs as vague as that for as long as possible. She had had to grow up knowing and fearing dangers no child should know about nor be afraid of. She wanted to keep their children in their world of ignorant bliss as long as life would let them - maybe it was wrong of her, maybe children should know about what was awaiting them, but she couldn't bring herself to confront them. Not at all.

Tali looked at her brother strangely for a moment, processing his words and, deeming them not at all reasonable, stated simply, "Me wants da keep da kitty."

David shook his head, the traces of triumph in his eyes shattered by his sister's insufferable logic, "At lo mevina'."

Being siblings and having lived with each other almost every day of a little over three years, each of them knew which buttons to push with the other. Tali knew how to draw David out of his shell and likewise David knew how to infuse Tali's bubbling temper. And his little sister could get easily frustrated when she couldn't understand him. Tali's face contorted in oncoming anger, David sporting a trademark DiNozzo grin.

"David", Ziva warned, marking the page and putting her book down on the coffee table.

She raised her eyebrows at her son, causing him to sigh dramatically and repeat in frustrated English, "You don't understand. You're too little", adding the last part in order to keep something of an upper hand.

"No wittle", Tali stated firmly, throwing the playing cards on the floor in front of her.

It earned her a scowl from her brother, who was already moving to put away the cards, but Tali decided playing with her big brother was proving to be too unnerving and didn't pay much attention to it. Instead, she must have realized only a second ago that her mother was still in the room and turned on her heels, rushing over to the couch.

She came to a halt in front of Ziva, looking up at her mother with expectantly widened brown eyes, "Me hungwy, mommy."

"We have just eaten breakfast, tateleh", Ziva reasoned, speaking softly.

"Hungwy."

"But your Uncle Gibbs will be really sad if you are not hungry enough anymore to eat his lunch."

Tali considered this piece of information carefully, her forehead scrunching up in concentration. Her little mouth opened with a thought, but closed a second later without fulfilling its purpose. Instead, she huffed dramatically and returned to where her brother was stashing the cards into the box of toys that had been set up years ago, filling and refilling with all sorts of games and toys from both children. Tali knew she had discarded Shim somewhere close to the box and decided to go look for her favorite stuffed animal.

Ziva chuckled at her daughter's antics, but was jerked from her observation point when the phone started ringing. She quickly fetched the cordless from its usual spot on the kitchen counter and returned to her position on the couch in order to keep an eye on the kids, who were now discussing the possibility of finding a game they both knew and liked.

"Hello?", Ziva answered absentmindedly, smiling at Tali poking David with the tip of Shim's nose.

"Something distracting you?", came Abby's voice from the other end.

Ziva could hear Abby's smirk through the phone. "I am watching my children being my children."

"Never getting tired of it, huh?"

"No, never."

"Me neither. It's like a Tony-Ziva-puppet-theater with a real life touch, you know."

Ziva smiled, turning most of her attention now to the phone conversation. She knew the purpose of the call. "How was your meeting with the woman from the adoption agency?"

Abby let out an unnerved grunt. "That woman…she acted like an alien life form was possessing her and she couldn't show emotion. It was so frustrating. I couldn't read her like…at all! You never knew what she thought or felt or if she liked what she saw or what she heard. The Grand Canyon shows more emotion than that alien woman…in the sunlight, you know, all the colors… No color, that woman was black. No, not even black. She was like…eggshell. The most un-color like…ever. Eggshell, definitely eggshell."

"She was eggshell", Ziva repeated, trying to hide her smile behind forced seriousness and straining to keep up with the conversation-bravado.

"Yeah, and Tim was really nervous. I haven't seen him this nervous since his probie days with Gibbs. And she didn't seem at all happy with the fact that no-name-child's future daddy was a Federal Agent who could get killed on the job every time he turns a corner. And I don't think she was a big fan of the crazy Goth forensic specialist mommy either", Abby's voice took a slow but sincere turn from bubbly erratic to frenetic anxiety, "I mean, really… Who are we to put a child into that kind of environment? I mean, we deal with death and crime and crazy whack jobs every day. Our whole line of work isn't exactly cut out for reproduction."

"Tony and I are in the same line of work, Abby, and we have children", Ziva cut in soothingly, "And we make it work…somehow."

"But you've never had to prove to the government that you're fit to be parents", Abby sounded increasingly exasperated, "I mean, not that I think you're unfit to be a parent, you're a great mom, it's just-"

"It is quite alright, Abby", Ziva assured her best friend, stealing a glance at her children across the room. She didn't know what she would do if someone came and assessed her way with her children, if someone would confront her with the possibility of losing them. She quickly shook that thought from her mind, concentrating back on the task at hand: reassuring Abby.

"It is true, we did not need to prove ourselves. But neither did parents in other armed government agencies, parents in the military, parents in high-ranking political offices. I am sure the adoption agency will not hold your jobs against you, Abby", Ziva assured her sincerely, "Rather, they will see that the two of you will be wonderful parents to whichever child is lucky enough to be consigned to your care."

After a moment of considerate silence, Abby's voice turned back up, unusually small and degraded, "Ziva, I'm scared."

"I know, Abby, I know."

As if sensing her Auntie's distress, Tali suddenly waddled over to the couch, divorcing herself from the chance of finding another game to play with her big brother. The little girl put her head sideways on the couch, facing her mother. Ziva used her free hand to smooth back Tali's soft curls, asking gently, "Do you want to say hello to your Auntie Abby, tateleh?"

What better way to take Abby's mind off her anxieties and to a place of confidence than talking to a little girl who adored her Auntie Abby? Tali nodded her head enthusiastically, her face breaking out into a grin. Ziva momentarily discarded the phone and picked Tali up from the ground so that the little girl could stand next to her on the couch. Tali leaned against her mother on the uneven couch-surface, Ziva putting one arm protectively around her daughter and helping her hold the phone to her little ear with the other.

"Sh'lom Aun'ie Abby!", Tali called into the receiver, causing an invisible smile to appear on Abby's face.

"Hey there Tally-Wally. Watcha doing?"

"Tawin to you, Aun'ie Abby", Tali answered truthfully, raising her little eyebrows.

"That's quite right", Abby laughed.

"Wuvs ya."

With that simple but straight announcement Tali seemed entirely satisfied with the turn of the conversation, smiling contently and handing the phone back to her mother. Ziva kept Tali's small hand securely in her own while the little girl first plopped down on the seat upholstery and then jumped down from the couch, re-joining her brother and Shim.

"She's adorable", Abby affirmed, still smiling.

Usually Ziva might have pointed out that Tali's cuteness did have its limits, but not this time. "As will be your child, Abby. Everything will work out just fine, believe me."

"You're right…", Abby trailed off and Ziva was certain she heard the silent descent of a small tear along Abby's cheek.

"We will talk tomorrow, yes?"

"Sure, bubbly-happy as ever."

Ziva couldn't quite believe her best friend, but sometimes - that she knew - certainties don't need affirmation, sometimes certainties just need to linger in limbo. They bid their goodbyes and Ziva heaved a sigh, before her eyes fell on the clock displayed on the phone. It was already ten to twelve. Gibbs always expected them around midday, but then again, he knew they were going to be late. They were, most of the time. Ziva actually enjoyed him not caring if they were on time for once, it kind of separated their meeting at home from their everyday work at NCIS.

She announced the time - that didn't really mean much to either David or Tali - and that they were going to be late for Uncle Gibbs' lunch - that which actually caused them to put their toys and games back into the box. They quickly let themselves be ushered upstairs. Ziva helped David sort out his choice of clothes before getting Tali ready, in-between each child applying some hints of make-up and dressing in simple jeans and t-shirt. Lunch at Gibbs' never called for much dressing up - something else she enjoyed greatly about it. Downstairs she packed a bag with toys, spare clothes and tried to think of every kind of eventuality. Even though Gibbs did have a fair share of toys, games and various other things that belonged to or with the kids - things they had forgotten once and never retrieved, things Ziva had left with Gibbs on purpose or things Gibbs had gone out and bought just in case - and even though the bag was pretty much packed with all necessities all the time, the agent in Ziva liked to be prepared. Especially when it came to her children.

After buckling Tali into her booster seat and checking David's insistence on buckling himself in, they embarked on the short, ten-minute commute to Gibbs' place. Their weekly lunches with Gibbs had started right after Tony had left for Spain. Granted, they had eaten at Gibbs' place time and time again even before that, but it had only become a weekly fixture in their schedule afterwards. As Ziva was adamant not to expose the kids to NCIS headquarters when it could be avoided, most of the time Sunday's lunches were Gibbs' only chance of meeting his acquired niece and nephew throughout the week. While Ducky, Abby, McGee and sometimes even Palmer would regularly visit them at their apartment, Gibbs usually kept it close to homebase. But he adored both Tali and David, his ease with children even more apparent as he knew them so well.

After lifting Tali out of the car, the bag slung over her shoulder, Ziva guided them across the street. Afterwards they both immediately broke free from her hand and raced to the door that was habitually unlocked. Ziva trailed behind, knowing the drill. Their first way would lead them to the basement where Gibbs was sure to be working on the boat, waiting for them. Ziva put the bag on the living room couch, briefly checked on lunch in the oven and then retreated to the basement herself, her advance underlined by screams and cheers of _"Uncle Gibbs!"_ or _"Unca 'ibbs!"_ respectively. She meandered down the steps, taking in the sight in front of her: Gibbs was smiling one of his real smiles, Tali already in his arms and babbling away, while David was scrutinizing the progress Gibbs had made with the boat since last week's visit. Ziva came to a halt at the foot of the stairs, Gibbs quickly nodding and smiling his welcome, which she heartily returned.

"No name boat", Tali asserted suddenly, her voice adopting slight traces of a reprimand. It was a simple fact that had a special meaning to the little girl, as Gibbs had named the last boat after her. That boat had been gone for good nine months now, nowhere to be seen.

"That's because I'm not finished with it yet, princess", Gibbs answered, hoisting her higher in his arms so she could get a better look at the skeleton of the boat, "See."

He traced the grain of the wood with his free hand, helping Tali to lean forward and do the same. "I still need to work on it some more."

"Can I help?", David perked up hopefully from behind Gibbs.

"Sure", Gibbs turned around and fetched two pieces of sandpaper, handing one to David, who had taken a stand close to his Uncle Gibbs, and one to Tali, "Both of ya."

Tali smiled at him and took the paper, looking at it curiously. Gibbs arranged the paper in her little hand, so that the right side was facing down, and then put her hand in his, moving it along with the grain of the wood. David watched them closely and did the same on a rip right next to his sister's.

"I will get lunch ready in the meantime", Ziva offered, smiling at the three-some.

"Don't blow up my kitchen this time, will ya?", Gibbs called after her, half-jokingly.

"One time, Gibbs, just that one time", Ziva waved him off with a smirk, vanishing behind the door.

Apparently they were having roast beef with an abundance of side dishes. She had been pretty surprised to learn that Gibbs could actually cook more than steaks on the living room fireplace and warm up instant meals. She had been even more surprised to learn that he was a pretty good chef too, she had to give him that. She knew he tried even harder with meals the kids participated in without Ziva once actually voicing her wish to keep the children's diet as balanced as possible. He had known, just like that. Then again, he was Gibbs after all.

Moments like the one down in the basement just minutes ago were typical. She couldn't shake the thought of Gibbs as some kind of surrogate grandpa to David and Tali, even more so as their biological grandparents were dire disappointments in their ascribed roles. While both Tony's and her mother were long diseased, their respective fathers very much acted as if they were too. Anthony DiNozzo Sr. at least sent birthday cards, dropping in for the odd visit once or twice a year, both children not having the slightest connection to the man, both calling him Senior and not grandpa. Ever since Tony's departure to Spain Senior had been a no-show, however. And Eli David was yet to accept the existence of his two only grandchildren. Ziva had not talked to her father since that one last fallout half a year after her acquiring US-American citizenship, while renouncing all her bonds to her homeland of Israel. He had not commented in any way possible on her relationship with Tony - who she knew he could not stand for the life of him -, her pregnancies or the birth of either of their children. She doubted David or Tali even suspected that they had another biological grandfather. They didn't need to anyway.

They had Ducky. And they had Gibbs. Gibbs, especially, was being more of a grandfather in his acquired role than Eli or Senior could ever hope to be. Sure, both children were calling him their Uncle, but that's because neither Tony nor Ziva had dared ask him if he would let himself be called their grandpa. They had feared it would be a tad bit too much, too much of Gibbs' heart still broken and shattered - even all those years after Shannon's and Kelly's death. Ziva wasn't much older than Kelly would have been, had she had the chance at a life. It would have been too hard, it would have been too complicated. Really, titles - may they be acquired or ascribed - didn't mean much anyway. What you did with them, that's what counted and what Gibbs did for her children meant the world to Ziva. And she knew for a fact, it meant even more to Tony.

Halfway through laying the table, Gibbs turned up to help with Tali still tightly in his arms and David leading their way. It always amazed Ziva how comfortable both were with Gibbs, comfortable enough to be themselves. Lunch at Gibbs' was easy. Gibbs somehow had a calming effect on all three of them. As usual it lasted well into the afternoon. Ziva had eventually taken Tali to the guest room for her afternoon nap, after the little girl had been already semi-asleep in her mother's lap and Gibbs had assured her thrice that David and he would clear away the dishes. Ziva had returned downstairs after staying with Tali for half an hour, but decided to go back upstairs when her eyes fell on Gibbs and David skimming through some of the boxes that were scattered all over the foyer and living room. The boxes had been there for nine months now, storing all those parts of Gibbs' life he had left behind in Stillwater.

When Jackson Gibbs had died three and a half years ago, Gibbs had been shattered - once again. None of them had ever quite figured out just what kind of relationship father and son had actually had, but no matter its emotional or physical distance, Gibbs had been hurting. He had been hurting in a Gibbs way, leaving only slight and distinctive clues as to what he was actually feeling and thinking, but they all knew. Somehow, however, even though they had had no idea how to help their boss, mentor and father-figure, Tali's birth a few months later had somehow consolidated him.

Nine months ago he had left one day and returned with all those boxes, setting them up in his living room and not having put them away ever since. Watching him now, laughing and smiling, showing old pictures to David and watching the six-year-old prance around the room with an old football cup, Ziva liked to think that even Gibbs sometimes needed help. Even if that help came from sources that were not even old enough to understand just how much they were actually helping without even trying.

* * *

**Woodside near Quantico Marine Base**

A man of robust build, muscular and tall, crept out of the woods, his body hidden in the shadows. He was breathing heavily, bending over and propping his arms up on his knees for support. He cleared his throat, a hoarse grunt escaping the depth of his tarry lungs.

"Everything set?", a lighter voice asked from somewhere to his right.

The older man, clad in cargos and a shirt, looked up. His eyes fell into the piercing greenness of his opponent's. "As planned", he answered curtly, taking one deep breath before straightening back up. He squinted his eyes together, willing himself to get a grip on his own breathing.

"You're somewhat out of breath", the green-eyed man observed calmly, no trace of disdain lacing his voice, though.

"Had to cover our tracks, didn't I?", the older man returned, coughing.

"You want me to get the car?"

"No."

"Didn't think so", the younger of the two said plainly, drawing the collar of his black coat up to hide his piercing emerald eyes, "We can't risk any tire tracks or people seeing us."

The man in cargo pants and with indefinably dark eyes took another deep breath, finally regaining composure and straightening himself up to full height. Towering over the other man he stated derisively, a slack smile playing on his lips, "It's been a while since my glory days."

The shorter of the two took a step closer, "We're too old for glory, old boy. It's time to tie up loose ends."


	4. Of murdering and boasting

**Beware: **This is where the real action starts - I promised an intricate plot, I promised a case and henceforth you shall receive. After some minor glimpses during the last chapter, this is where the games begin _- verbos et circenses_, everyone! You may start the guessing game now if you'd like, or simply lean back and enjoy the written word - both totally fine with me. Still, of course, I would love to hear what you think, especially now that we're closing in on the case-part of this fic!

**Appreciation:** THANK YOU for your thoughts and reviews and continuously adding this story to your favorites and alerts - I do very much appreciate it!

* * *

**Chap 4 Of murdering and boasting**

_Monday, November 4__th__ 2018_

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva quickly reached for the alarm clock on her nightstand. It was _almost half past six_ in the morning and she had been awake for almost an hour already, just lying there. Sleeping beyond the magical five was almost an impossible task for her. She had gotten up at four to five in the morning from the time she had been ten years old. She had never needed particularly much sleep, but Mossad training - and everything that had led up to it - had taught her to go on a few hours of sleep max. Unlike Tony, having a baby like David had not thrown her entire sleeping pattern off - in fact, she had rather enjoyed the quality time she had been able to share with her small son so as to spare her life partner another sleepless night. Granted, her constant consciousness had quieted down somewhat throughout her years in the US and especially during the years with Tony, but still. She liked to avoid the alarm clock's incessant rings nonetheless as they would only wake Tali.

The little girl had had enough upheaval for the day already. Early in the morning Ziva had been awoken - and so had been David - by Tali's soft yet heart-wrenching whimpers for her mommy. Around midnight a storm had swept over the city, clashes of thunder and blazing flashes of lightening scaring the little girl into wakefulness. For once it had not been that easy to lull the three-year-old back to sleep and Ziva had eventually spent over an hour sitting on the bed with Tali in her arms, the little girl shrinking deeper and deeper into her mother's embrace while trying to block out every sound and every vision of the storm outside. No cooing, no soothing, no rocking had appeared to work on the little girl until her own exhaustion had forced her back into restless slumber.

Ziva waited for the _twenty-nine to turn into a radiating, green thirty_ on the display before carefully lifting the covers off her body and climbing out of her bed. She made sure Tali was not disrupted, tucked the blanket tightly back around the little girl and quietly crept out of the room. She turned to her right and into the bathroom, getting herself ready. She put on some cargos, a black shirt and a jacket - clothes she had laid out for herself the night before so she wouldn't disturb Tali by rummaging through her closet. As always while applying make-up she was swiftly and glaringly reminded of a comment her father had made to her many years ago during one of the last times they had seen each other, _'When did you start wearing so much make-up?' _She scowled at her mirror image. It had been so long ago, so very long.

Exhaling a breath she didn't know she had been holding, she put her things back into the cabinet and silently went downstairs to prepare breakfast. While she whipped up pancakes for David, she was careful to choose something more transportable for Tali. Ziva knowingly anticipated a very irritable three-year-old this morning and she feared they wouldn't get around to eating breakfast properly - especially not today. Around _seven o'clock_ she made her way back upstairs and into David's room. She smiled at his peacefully relaxed expression before kneeling down beside his bed.

"Boker tov, tateleh", she called out softly, watching as consciousness took over his body.

He returned sleepily, "Boker tov, mommy."

"Time to wake up."

She waited for him to open his eyes and embrace the dire reality of a new morning before walking over to his closet and adding a sweater to the clothes they had decided on the day before, knowing that after a storm like that Washington would be positively freezing today. Then she guided him to the bathroom, the little boy still a bit shaky with drowsiness. Ziva helped him get ready, consciously allowing him to do most things by himself as David's independent streak was showing more clearly every day. By the time they were heading downstairs the six-year-old was copiously awake, however, never in need of too much time to actually wake up - much unlike his little sister. Ziva put his breakfast in front of him, kissed the top of his head and returned upstairs to face the more challenging task of the morning.

When she entered her bedroom Tali was practically spread out all over the king-sized bed, the covers almost drowning her small body. Ziva had to chuckle at the sight. Tali so often and with so little reminded her so much of Tony. She went over and sat down on Tony's side of the bed, starting to smooth back Tali's hair that seemed to be all over the little girl's face.

"Neshomeleh?", Ziva whispered gently, leaning closer to Tali's ear and kissing the little girl's temple.

Tali's eyelids flickered open suddenly but were re-shut only a fleet second later. A soft groan escaped her little mouth and she turned her face deeper into the pillow.

"It is morning. You need to get up", Ziva tried again, tilting her head to the side so as to get a better look at her daughter. She put Tali's hair behind her ear and revealed Tali squinting her eyes tightly shut and pursing her lips.

"No wake up", Tali spoke softly, her little voice muffled even more by the pillow.

"You have school today, tateleh."

"No yet, mommy", Tali whined, trying to turn even further away from the morning.

Ziva smiled at Tali's trademark exclamation. She stopped stroking the little girl's hair momentarily which caused Tali to open her eyes and look at her mother. Ziva raised her eyebrows at her daughter and slightly opened her arms, beckoning the three-year-old towards her. Tali eventually complied and crawled out from under the covers and into Ziva's lap, drowsily putting her head against her mother's shoulder. Ziva put a small kiss to her forehead before standing up with the little girl in her arms. Ziva quickly fetched the girl's clothes from her room before entering the bathroom. When she tried to put Tali down, however, the three-year-old slung her arms around her mother's neck, tightly holding onto her.

After a few inane efforts of prying her daughter away from her, Ziva opted for drawing circles on the little girl's back so soothe her. "Tali, you have to let go of me so that we can get you ready for your day at school", Ziva reasoned calmly, "You do want to go to school and meet your friends, yes?" Tali nodded weakly from where she had buried her head in the crook of Ziva's neck.

Ziva waited a few more moments before Tali finally lifted her head to look at her mother with big eyes that were narrowed to drowsy slits. "I will put you down for just a little bit, yes?", Ziva requested softly, caressing the little girl's cheek with her fingers.

Tali nodded again and let herself be put on the ground, where Ziva instantly crouched down in front of her to help her get dressed. Nonetheless, Tali seemed especially uncooperative today regarding the clothing process, lifting her arms only after being asked to do so twice, stepping onto the pant legs of her dungarees at least four times and pouting all the way through. When she realized she was finished being dressed, she immediately flung herself back against Ziva. Even brushing her teeth and washing her face turned into a coaxing feast. Tali hardly kept her mouth open long enough for Ziva to even touch down on her teeth with the toothbrush and she constantly fell back against Ziva's shoulder, so that the amount of water that had actually made it as far as Tali's face was less than the water stains on Ziva's shirt. And even though brushing her thick, dark hair was probably Tali's favourite part about their morning ritual, she neither sat still nor turned her face for Ziva to form two identical pigtails, which eventually left the little girl's soft curls to roll freely. Thinking how there had been times when she had almost killed people who were more compliant than her own daughter, Ziva had to suppress a derisive chuckle.

When Ziva picked a now cranky Tali back up and hoisted her onto her hip so that she could grab her backpack from her bedroom, she heaved an inward sigh of relief. It was _ten to eight_ when they turned back up downstairs, where David had already dutifully put away the remnants of his breakfast and was waiting for them, set and ready to go, on the couch. Ziva flashed him an appreciative smile and motioned for the door while she retrieved Tali's breakfast, which she had packed into a bag earlier, and the little girl's rucksack. David took both from her at the door when he saw Ziva struggling with them and the task of getting Tali's boots onto her feet without much help from the little girl herself. When Ziva locked the door behind another early morning she quickly reminded herself that she loved her children, no matter what - no matter what.

First they drove downtown to drop David off at Gavington elementary school. Ziva wished him a good day and watched him enter the building before driving off into the direction of NCIS headquarters. All the while Tali was munching on her take-out-breakfast, unusually quiet for the hour after waking up, when she would usually start becoming her bubbly self and rattling off plans for the day to her mother. Ziva parked the car in front of her daughter's preschool that was conveniently situated between their apartment and the Navy Yard. She led Tali into the building, finding her daughter's grip on her hand oddly tight. When it was finally time for Ziva to leave, she found out why, too: Tali just didn't want her to leave. It wasn't the first time for Tali to refuse to stay at preschool, but it certainly wasn't their typical modus operandi.

Ziva was soon kneeling on the floor in front of Tali's classroom, Tali firmly clinging to every part of her upper body she could reach, constantly repeating a mantra of _"No leave, mommy!" _that positively shattered Ziva's heart. "I am only leaving for a little while, tateleh. You will see me again this evening", Ziva soothed gently, drawing circles on the little girl's back. It had been some time since Tali had acted so completely hysterical, but Ziva knew her daughter was immensely frightened of storms - and the last one had positively shaken her.

Ziva started another attempt at pulling away from the little girl, but that only caused Tali to tighten her grip around Ziva's neck. "Hakol beseder, neshomeleh, yihyeh beseder", she whispered into the three-year-old's ear which somehow prevented the oncoming bout of tears Ziva had anticipated. Ever since they were babies Ziva had found that her voice when talking in Hebrew had an inexplicably greater calming effect on both of her children.

"Hello Tali." The voice of one of Tali's teachers suddenly perked up from somewhere behind Ziva. The three-year-old didn't even budge at the sound of a new voice on the scene, but Ziva slightly turned her head and smiled at the older woman, her smile somewhat feeble.

"I'm sure your mommy has to leave for work now, honey", the woman continued, crouching down beside the mother-daughter-pair.

"No leave, mommy", Tali repeated adamantly, but at least turned her head far enough away from Ziva's neck to make her voice heard and to look at her favourite teacher.

"It will not be for long, tateleh. Sarah will pick you up in a little while and I will be home in the evening", Ziva reiterated, kissing the back of her daughter's head.

"We'll do loads of fun stuff today, too", the woman, whose name Ziva now remembered to be Ms. Rachel, boasted exaggeratedly.

Ziva put on a smile for her daughter's sake. "Did you hear that?", she said gently when Tali finally lifted her head and turned to look at her with her big brown eyes, "You will have a lot of fun with your friends today. The day will be over before you know it and then I will be back."

Tali looked from the expectant glisten in Ms. Rachel's eyes to her mother's raised eyebrows, eventually nodding her approval.

"Tov", Ziva pressed a kiss to her daughter's forehead, smiling, "Ani ohevet otcha."

At last a small smile appeared on Tali's face as she moved into Ziva's embrace for one last hug. Ziva straightened back up and smiled appreciatively at Ms. Rachel before watching her lead Tali into the classroom, returning her daughter's small wave with forceful enthusiasm. When Tali and her teacher had vanished, however, she glanced at her watch: _a quarter to nine_. She rushed out of the building and to her car, cutting off several soccer moms on her way to speeding down the streets towards the Navy Yard. She was more than late, way more than late.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Ziva was tapping her foot impatiently inside the elevator, cursing it in several languages for stopping at every possible level and cursing the people around her even more for working on all those different floors. When the door eventually glided open, Ziva the only one left inside, she dashed forward, semi-careful not to run into people scurrying around the squadroom. She only stopped short in front of her desk, taking a second to gather her breath, rolling her eyes at herself.

"Bad morning?", McGee looked up from his computer on the desk across from hers.

After Tony had left for Spain, McGee had taken over the position of Senior Field Agent and hence Tony's old desk. In fact, it had been quite the toss-up between them, neither Vance nor Gibbs entirely sure who to appoint the position to - Vance leaning a little bit more towards McGee's tech-savvy-ness and Gibbs leaning a little bit more towards Ziva's extensive experience in the field. Ziva, however, had made the decision easy for them. She hadn't cut every painter connecting her to Mossad and become a NCIS agent for career-reasons. She had wanted a different life for herself, a life where she would have a choice, a life where she could have what she so dearly desired. At the end of the day, she had chosen NCIS over Mossad to settle down, even more so maybe to have children. The position of Senior Field Agent came along with more responsibilities, more desk-work, longer hours, working weekends - nothing she particularly enjoyed putting her children through seeing as she had a hard time trusting the _one_ nanny they had as it was. Ziva had crossed herself off the short-list. Yes, she was a self-dependent and strong woman and yes, she was all for women in higher ranking positions, but there was nothing left for her in the life of a field operative. She had had her share - a fairly large share at that - of the action and it had seemed enough for several lifetimes. This one she'd rather share with her children.

Ziva quickly glanced at him through narrowed eyes and let her backpack sink to the floor and herself into her chair. She was about to answer with a curt and profound affirmation, when her eyes fell on Gibbs nearing the bullpen from the far-end elevator. "With the potential of becoming a bad day", she groaned softly.

McGee followed her line of vision, his eyes briefly widening in realization. Gibbs, his expression unreadable as ever, marched up to Ziva's desk, coming to a halt right in front of her. She looked up at him to find his eyebrows raised in the slightest.

Ziva flung herself into an agitated explanation, "I know I was late, but Tali was awoken by the storm and would not go back to sleep until hours afterwards. And in the morning she was..._of course_...very cranky and even less cooperative than usual. Getting her ready for school was an endless fight and at the preschool she would not let go of me..."

Ziva finally drifted off when she realized the playful smirk Gibbs' lips were hinting at. Instead of chastising her or answering her, he conjured up a styrofoam cup of jasmine tea from where his hand was hidden behind the edge of her desk and gently placed it in front of her. Then he turned on his heel and went over to his own desk.

"Gear up", Gibbs boomed at once, ignoring Ziva's slightly irritated look, "Romeo and Juliet found a dead Marine in the woods near Quantico. Looks like there's more than one piece of him to love now."

Gibbs was already storming from the bullpen, attaching the holster of his SIG to his belt on the way, while Ziva and McGee hastily grabbed their stuff so as to make it to the elevator in time. McGee, noticing the perturbed look on Ziva's face, inquired quickly, "What's wrong? It's not like this'll be our first severed body."

Stepping onto the elevator together Ziva tried to hide the wistful glisten in her eyes at his words. No, this would definitely not be the first severed body she had ever seen. In actual fact, she had seen many a severed body, many a severed head - and some heads had been more dear to her than others. She tried to shake those thoughts from her mind, however, putting on a slack smile instead.

"No. I am actually more surprised that Gibbs knows _Romeo and Juliet_", she quipped, causing a brief smile to flicker across Gibbs' face when the doors to the elevator closed shut.

* * *

**Woodside near Quantico Marine Base**

After a short hike through the woods, Ziva and McGee sharing the bulk of the equipment, they arrived at the crime scene. Not only was Palmer nowhere in sight, even though Gibbs had assured them he had notified the M.E., but the scene was already secured and enclosed by caution tape. Both McGee and Ziva stopped short in their tracks when their eyes fell onto a young man waiting just outside the secluded area. They couldn't hide their derisive smirks when they read the letters on his jacket: FBI. Gibbs, who had fallen a few feet behind, now brushed past them and headed straight for the FBI agent, whose expression contorted with continuous degrees of apprehension as Gibbs closed in on him. The older agent stopped only inches from the other man who suddenly appeared smaller than he actually was.

"What's the FBI doing at my crime scene?", Gibbs barked.

"My...my name is Agent Tuhoy", answered the younger of the two, fumbling with his ID and trying to stand his ground as he had been instructed to do by his CO, "And I was sent down here to negotiate jurisdictional issues with a certain...ahm...Special Agent Leroy Jethro...Gi-"

"You what?", Gibbs exclaimed incredulously.

"I am here to negotiate juris-"

"Yeah, I heard you alright", Gibbs cut in sharply, his face only inches from Agent Tuhoy's and his eyes as piercing as ever, "It's still crap."

Agent Tuhoy looked flabbergasted. "But I-"

"You by any chance new on the job?", Gibbs asked, jerking his head back slightly and raising his eyebrows.

"Ye- Yes, sir. I was recruited only a few weeks ago", Agent Tuhoy answered in a distinctly smaller voice.

"Ah..."

Ziva and McGee had eventually had enough of the show unfolding in front of their amused eyes and passed the pair on their way to the crime scene. "Welcome to the jungle", McGee said mischievously, patting Agent Tuhoy on the shoulder before ducking under the caution tape and getting to work.

"Mazel tov", Ziva nodded at the increasingly irritated FBI-Agent and stepped onto the crime scene right behind her partner.

When both had left, Agent Tuhoy warily turned back to Gibbs who was still staring at him incessantly and apparently unblinking. "The corpse itself is barely situated within NCIS jurisdiction. There is, however, the possibility of evidence found on the grounds of FBI jurisdiction, in which case, according to the book, the FBI investigative branch has to be notified and included in the subsequent examination", the younger agent recited, his eyes momentarily unfocused.

"Sure", Gibbs deadpanned, lowering his voice and closing in on Agent Tuhoy some more, "You know what?"

"Yes, sir?"

Gibbs turned away and stepped over the tape, calling back at the FBI-rookie-bait on his way to the crime scene, "Tell Fornell I'll see him Thursday at dinner."

A brief smile had formed on Gibbs' face upon his warm-up encounter, but it was quickly wiped off by the sight that presented itself in front of him. A long, wooden pole had been rammed into the semi-frozen soil, the head of a young man pronged onto its sharp end. The appertaining body, clad in a simple t-shirt and jeans, was perched in front of it, ostensibly leaning up against the pole. When Gibbs stepped closer he could distinctly see that the victim's dog tags had been carefully draped around the stump of his neck and vertical blood stains were leading down from an almost invisible wound in the man's chest. Ziva and McGee were already at work, Ziva shooting photos of the scene while McGee was trying to find valuable evidence.

"According to the fingerprint scan you're looking at Marine Sergeant John L. Rivers, currently on leave from a special combat force stationed at Quantico", McGee debriefed quickly.

"Ziva", Gibbs called, getting her attention at once, "Go find out if they saw anything." Gibbs nodded over at the couple he had earlier referred to as Romeo and Juliet, who were standing a few feet off the scene with a metro police officer by their side. They seemed obviously shaken, both clutching their respective blankets close to their bodies. They couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen.

Ziva hesitated. McGee noticed and their eyes met in silent understanding. Deeming his search for evidence useless as the perpetrator appeared to have been meticulously careful, McGee took out his PDA and went over to the witnesses. Ziva thanked him with an appreciative smile when he passed her by. Gibbs noted their silent exchange but said nothing. After Tony had left, McGee and Ziva had become partners - and good ones at that. They were friends too, good friends and as such they knew each other well. That deeper understanding of one another meant that McGee had learned not to ask why Ziva had always been hesitant to interrogate or question teenagers. While she was a pro with children and adults - with teenagers she wasn't. There was just something preoccupying her mind around them, something she couldn't overcome. It was easier to help her out instead of questioning her motives - McGee knew that, and so did Gibbs.

"Now, my poor lad, a death like yours I have never seen before", Ducky's booming voice arrived on the scene, trotting almost silently along the slippery soil. His steps appeared oddly elevated, equipped with only one simple medical bag. When Ziva looked up she saw two police officers carrying the gurney and a body bag.

"Hello, dear", Ducky stopped shortly beside Ziva, who smiled up at him from where she was crouching on the ground, trying to get a different angle on the position of the corpse.

She was only mildly surprised to see him. Granted, Ducky had retired three years ago, but he was still constantly around the squadroom, offering his extensive knowledge and advice. He couldn't imagine a life without his extended family at NCIS, making it his hobby to visit each of them either at work or in their homes. More often than not they were all having dinner at his house and he would frequently invite David and Tali to the grounds, claiming he was too old to enjoy the huge garden attached to the mansion - Ziva knew he adored her children just as much as they adored their Uncle Ducky. Palmer had followed into Ducky's footsteps, becoming the Chief Medical Examiner of NCIS. Gibbs, however, was still wavering in his trust towards Palmer's abilities, feeling more assured with Ducky around. As usual, the moment Palmer wasn't immediately on hand or answering Gibbs' first and only call, Ducky would inevitably turn up at a crime scene.

"Really never, Duck?", Gibbs inquired with a crooked smile.

"Well, there was this one incident back at school in Edinburgh, but it merely involved a puppet", Ducky asserted pensively, putting his bag down next to Gibbs and straightening up, "A very authentic puppet, I might add."

"That man's very real, very authentic head's sticking on a spear, Duck."

"In point of fact, dear Jethro", Ducky started calmly, putting on some latex gloves and moving to examine the position of the body, "this particular pole weapon is called a _pike_ owing to its great _length_. It is not actually intended to be thrown, much unlike other pole weapons. Linguistics does, however, mislead us somewhat in this case, I must say, as this poor fellow's head was quite simply _speared _onto the pike."

Ducky strained his neck to get a better look at the Sergeant's head hovering almost two feet above his, "I guess someone else will have to bag that head for me, I'm afraid."

Gibbs, unbeknownst to Ducky, slightly rolled his eyes. McGee and Ziva, however, smiled knowingly. McGee then turned towards Gibbs and read off his notes on his PDA. "Landon Williams and Stacy Cain, both sixteen years old. Apparently they were looking for a place to...make out... Make out meaning they were-"

"I know what making out is, McGee", Gibbs cut in irritably, "Believe it or not, back in the Stone Age they _made out_ too."

"Right...", McGee said, now quite a bit irritated himself but quickly regaining his composure upon Gibbs' glare, "They entered the woods from the other side of the river and that's how they found Sergeant Rivers. They called the police with their cell phones - already confirmed that."

"Good", Gibbs answered, turning back towards where Ducky had passed on to examining Sergeant Rivers' lone body, "COD, Duck?"

"It appears the poor Sergeant was killed by a single stab wound to the chest that, considering the massive blood loss, must have impaled a major artery", Ducky claimed and, inspecting the victim's stiff arm, he added, "Inferring from the almost perfect rigor mortis and the low temperatures as of late, I would gather that the Sergeant has been dead for about twelve to thirteen hours. But I am sure Dr. Palmer will, provided that he cares to check the one thousand messages I left on his mobile phone this morning, be able to tell you a more accurate date of death after performing a thorough autopsy."

Gibbs nodded and scribbled the essentials down on his notepad, while Ducky straightened back up and started instructing the police officers on how to best and most carefully treat the two corpse-pieces of Sergeant Rivers.

McGee, standing up from his position on the ground where he had just re-packed their things, turned to Gibbs, "Sergeant Rivers' killer definitely knew how to clean up after himself. There isn't a piece of useful evidence around."

"Ya think, McGee?", Gibbs shot a sideways glance at his Senior Field Agent.

"Yes?", McGee confirmed uncertainly.

"Don't think you might've overlooked something?", Gibbs deadpanned, narrowing his eyes, "Something big and important maybe?"

McGee looked back at his boss, unsure of what to say or what to think. Gibbs, however, simply turned his head to the right. McGee followed his line of vision, his eyes widening with realization, "The pike." Gibbs opened his mouth to say something else, but McGee was already scrambling over to where police officers had successfully bagged the remains of Sergeant Rivers.

Gibbs allowed a slight smirk to cross his lips when Ziva turned up at his side. "This is not your usual murder, Gibbs", she declared.

"I know, it's a message", Gibbs affirmed, watching McGee struggle with pulling the pike out of the resilient soil, "Only question is what message and to whom."

"You know, Jethro, the Romans cultivated a tradition of spearing their enemies' or assailants' heads on poles", Ducky interjected, taking off his latex gloves, "Then they would display them in the Forum or along main roads in and out of the city - like the Via Appia - so as to remind both friend and foe to never defy the Empire again."

"Well then", Gibbs stated sardonically, already moving to leave, "we gotta find ourselves one pissed off Emperor."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"Got a definite TOD for me, Jimmy?", Gibbs asked upon entering the autopsy room at NCIS headquarters.

Dr. Jimmy Palmer, former assistant to the Chief Medical Examiner, looked up from where he was already stitching up Sergeant Rivers' corpse. The Sergeant's head lay on a mobile scale next to him. "I've got even more than that", Jimmy called out to him with a proud smile on his face, "The Sergeant's death wasn't exactly a remarkable one."

Gibbs gave him a funny look, which he tried to astutely ignore. Instead, he put away his implements and straightened up, stating confidently, "The Sergeant's liver temperature suggests that Dr. Mallard's preliminary findings were right. The Sergeant was killed between eight and nine o'clock yesterday evening."

Gibbs simply nodded his head, letting his eyes scan over the body until Jimmy turned up at his side, motioning for Gibbs to step back, so that he could retrieve the head. Gibbs complied and watched Jimmy carefully lift Rivers' head up far enough for Gibbs to observe the severing cut. "Do you notice the lack of haemorrhaging?", Jimmy went on, tracing the tissue just above the wound with his index finger, "Also, according to crime scene photographs, there was little blood on the pike and on the Sergeant's body in the area around his neck."

"His head was cut off _after_ he was killed", Gibbs confirmed.

"Which would support the presumption that the drapery was for the sole purpose of dramatic effect", Jimmy said and upon Gibbs' strange look he added blankly, "or intended as a message."

Cautiously placing the head back on its initial place, Jimmy turned and beckoned Gibbs to follow him over to the right-hand wall where x-rays of Rivers' entire body were on display. "Examination of the Sergeant's organs shows he was a perfectly healthy, athletic man."

"He _was _part of an elite squad, Jimmy."

"But I did find a serious impediment", Jimmy continued, pointing at several darker areas along the Sergeant's x-raid right lower leg and at what appeared to be a nail of some sort, "Only recently the Sergeant broke both his fibula and his tibia at four different places."

"Calfbone and shinbone."

"Right", Jimmy briefly turned to confirm Gibbs' translation before moving his finger closer to the nail, "This appears to have been a very complex fracture actually, possibly entailing substantial rehabilitation."

"Injured in combat?", Gibbs moved back over to the corpse on the table.

"It is possible, yes", Jimmy affirmed before stepping up to the footend of the autopsy table, conjuring a perfectly shaped human heart.

He held it with his right hand, while pointing at a clean cut of about two inches on the Sergeant's torso with the other. "Most of the blood you saw on Sergeant Rivers' body came from this wound on the lower left side of his chest", Jimmy penetrated a similar cut in the Sergeant's heart and held it slightly apart with his left index finger and thumb, "He was stabbed to death with a double-edged knife with symmetrical blades and a needle-point. The knife pierced the pericardium, lacerating both the vena cava and the aorta - he exsanguinated...bled to death. He must have been dead within seconds."

"An aimed hit", Gibbs mused.

"Or an extremely lucky one."

Gibbs turned around, calling back before leaving the room, "I doubt that, Jimmy."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

In the bullpen Ziva and McGee were staring at Sergeant Rivers' CV onscreen, both sporting dumbfounded expressions. "Who would do that to their child?", Ziva asked incredulously, her arms folded in front of her.

"I have no idea", McGee answered, his voice as faint with surprise as Ziva's, "That parents can be so cruel..."

"I could have never done that to my children."

"I would never do that to any future child of mine", McGee added, quickly glancing over at Ziva, "This should be illegal."

"Letholdus", Ziva chocked out, "Who would name their child Letholdus?"

"I never thought you could have that MacGyver moment twice in one life", McGee deadpanned.

"How 'bout a McGee moment?", Gibbs growled, turning up behind them.

McGee's index finger instinctively gave a twitch, changing the picture from Rivers' CV to his service record. His portrait showed an athletic, stout man in uniform, a highly decorated Marine, his dark hairline covered by his cap, a shimmer of determination shining through his dark eyes.

"John Letholdus Rivers, twenty-five years old", Ziva started, "Perfectly clean service record. Joined Special Forces directly after completing basic training. Was right on his way to make Staff Sergeant."

McGee switched to the next picture, that of Rivers' medical record, "It appears he severely broke his right lower leg during special combat training six months ago, for which he had to undergo surgery and rehabilitation at Bathesda."

When the depiction changed back to Rivers' CV, Ziva commented, "He wasn't married, no children. Parents died right after he joined the corps, no next of kin except for an aunt in a nutshell." McGee's and Gibbs' heads turned in unison, looking at the Israeli native with weary expressions on their faces. "What?", she cried out.

Gibbs turned around before they could notice his smile, while McGee answered good-naturedly, "It's called a nut_house_. And to maintain some kind of political correctness around here we'd better call it an asylum or treatment facility."

Now it was Ziva's turn to adopt a weary look, but she shook it off and turned back around towards Gibbs' desk, where he had just sat down. "His place is a small two-room apartment, which he left in utter chaos", she recounted, pulling a disgusted face at the mere thought of it.

"And where we found nothing particularly suspicious or useful for that matter", McGee assured quickly.

"But we still bagged and tagged everything. Abby is processing it as we speak", Ziva added upon Gibbs' disbelieving glare.

"Nobody seems to miss that guy. Nobody seems to have seen him or noticed him either."

"_Somebody_ has", Gibbs assured them.

"The killer", Ziva returned knowingly.

McGee slightly rolled his eyes, "Yes, but-"

Suddenly Gibbs' cell phone rang. He picked it up, offering a simplistic _"Yeah?"_ to the person on the other end and fell silent for a few seconds. "Be right up."

He flipped his cell shut and stood from his chair, "Sergeant's CO's waiting in the conference room." He brushed past them, calling over his shoulder before he completely vanished from view, "McGee."

"Right", McGee shoved the remote at Ziva, who tried to hide her smile, before ushering after his boss.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Conference Room**

Sergeant Major Brian Obelby was a sturdy man in his forties, who didn't even flinch when Gibbs thrust open the door to the conference room and took the seat opposite him. McGee remained standing. "Special Agent Gibbs", he greeted, his voice calm and self-assured.

"You knew Sergeant Rivers well?", Gibbs asked immediately.

"I've been his Commanding Officer ever since he joined Special Forces", he said and added upon noticing Gibbs' raised eyebrows, "Sergeant Rivers was a great Marine, extremely dedicated to his work, loyal to his company, disciplined, never acted up."

"You knew he'd been injured on base?"

"He wasn't injured on base, Special Agent Gibbs", Obelby answered plainly, "He was injured during combat training."

"Must have been quite the blow", McGee asserted.

"It was", Obelby confirmed, quickly glancing up at the Senior Field Agent before turning back towards Gibbs, "It was killing him. I never thought I'd see it but he literally shattered before my eyes...when doctors told him it would take months before he could even start thinking about training and that it'd probably never be quite the same ever again. The corps was his life."

"Drugs?", Gibbs inquired candidly.

"No. Rivers...never", the Sergeant Major answered decidedly, "He'd never do that to his career or his body."

"His career was over, his body was battered", Gibbs said blankly, "People have been seen doing the stupidest things when they're desperate, Skipper."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Around lunchtime Ziva was hovering over some Japanese take-out. Gibbs nowhere to be seen and McGee having retreated to Abby's lab for joint lunch, Ziva was currently on the phone with Tony. He was complaining about a particularly hard case he was desperate to solve so that he could take his leave as planned and Ziva voiced her suspicion that, back in D.C., they had apparently taken on a case that could prove to be fairly complex as well. Ziva told him about Tali's eventful night and their strenuous morning, Tony reacting extremely worried - and even though Ziva didn't worry him intentionally, she had to admit she adored her life partner in full daddy-mode. She confirmed David's soccer-tryout at the end of next week and Tony perked up at the thought of arriving in time to accompany their son. They tried to keep those daily or bi-daily phone conversations as civil and down-to-basics as possible and left longing gazes, wistful pauses and fervent remarks to be shared during their longer video exchanges.

Ziva uttered one last _"I love you"_ before hanging up. She kept staring at her phone, though, lingering in thoughts about the man she loved, yet the man who was so far away from her. It was only when he cleared his throat that she noticed Gibbs sitting at his desk, looking at her intently.

"Tony has been granted a two-month leave to spend back home", Ziva announced with a small smile, never sure how best to address the subject around Gibbs.

Gibbs kept staring at her and when his mouth seemed to finally open for some kind of statement on the matter, his phone rang. He offered her a last glance before picking up, listening for a few seconds and hanging up again. "Abby's found something", Gibbs declared matter-of-factly.

Ziva, however, didn't budge. She remained seated, her eyes dead-set on her boss, the only father-figure she had and trusted. Gibbs, after a moment of consideration, turned around from where he had already been on his way to the elevator and went back to stand in front of Ziva's desk. For a moment they just gazed at each other, ambers into sapphires, fire with fire.

"Just be careful what you wish for, Ziva", he stated earnestly, his voice laced with miniscule traces of emotion - emotions he seldom showed or shared. That alone consolidated Ziva's need for some hint at his opinion and she nodded. He nodded back and she eventually joined him on their way down to the lab.

During the short elevator ride that remained completely silent, Ziva distinctly remembered that one occasion when they had openly talked, talked about Tony leaving...

* * *

**Jun****e 2017****:**_** NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**_

"_Just say what you think you need to say, Gibbs", Ziva relented finally. He __kept staring at her, though, which caused her to cross her arms in front of her chest. "Tell me what you have wanted to tell me ever since Tony boarded that plane."_

"_I…", he shook his head vaguely, his mouth gaping with the following syllable, "just don't get how Ziva David could have let him board that plane in the first place, 's all."_

"_Do I really have to explain the concept of following orders and of carrying out one's duty to a former Marine?", Ziva narrowed her eyes at him._

_Instantly, the air between them filled heavily with memories, memories of walking down the driveway with Kelly waving, tears in her eyes, of Shannon putting on a brave face for their daughter, memories of boarding air freighters and departing on foreign soil with only a picture reminding him of what he had left behind. _"_No", he answered curtly, shaking his head again._

"_You do not understand why I let Tony leave on this assignment, why I did not drag him from that plane myself, yes?"_

"_What I don't understand", Gibbs shot back forcefully, "is why you of all people are letting him make the same mistake I made."_

"_You did not…make…a mistake", Ziva returned slowly, "And neither is Tony."_

"_No?", he threw his head back, "Looks to me he's becoming the kinda father he had."_

"_I will not deny that…this past year has been a challenge", she let the edges of her mouth flicker in and out of a smile, "But I love my children more than anything else…and so does Tony. He will never become like his own father."_

"_But he's the one off gallivanting in Spain while you're here trying to juggle two small kids and a high-risk job", Gibbs summed up quietly, his voice bordering a sense of gentleness._

_She smiled softly, her arms slowly sinking to her sides, "There are much more wounds to be suffered from in a family than a father you cannot see every day."_

"_This isn't how it has to be, Ziva."_

"_But it is how it is, Gibbs", Ziva raised her eyebrows, silent acceptance shining in her dark eyes, "It was not my decision to make, it was Tony's."_

"_Yeah, but-"_

"_I was born into a very big family, Gibbs. The David family was one of the oldest in Tel Aviv. Of it I am one of only five members still alive", Ziva explained calmly, folding her hands in front of her body, "Of the ones closest to me my mother was killed when I was eight years old. My best friend was killed in a missile strike when I was twelve. My little sister was murdered when she was only sixteen. I was forced to shoot my own brother. And my father was willingly assigning me a mission that should have killed me. And with my acquiring US citizenship I have renounced all my ties to my home country, the home of my family."_

_Gibbs remained silent throughout, looking at her with narrowed eyes._

"_My children will not have to suffer through any of this, because I will always be there to assure that they feel loved and wanted…and respected", her eyes were glazing over with tears she refused to let fall, "And I know...for a fact...that Tony will always be there to make sure of that as well."_

_Gibbs kept looking at her somewhat incredulously. Out of all his agents and out of all the people in her life, Gibbs had always had an uncanny ability to glance through her outer shell. And in there he detected those traces of disappointment, traces of hope, traces of fear. What she feared the most, however, was that her children would suffer and that it was beyond her control to stop it._

"_Why are you trying to defend him?", he started abruptly, causing her eyes to widen with the smile still playing on her lips._

"_I am not trying to defend him, Gibbs", she answered calmly, "I understand him."_

"_You do?"_

"_There is nothing left for me in the life I lived as a Mossad officer and now as NCIS agent. I had never expected to survive as long as I did", a faint sadness settled over her smile, "I had never dwelled on the thought of children because I had never expected to live long enough to have them."_

"_But you did", Gibbs inserted gently, stepping closer to Ziva._

"_Yes, I did", and the sadness was replaced by sincere elation, "I have been fighting since I was eight years old and in those years I have done things that are even beyond your imagination. There is nothing more left for me…to do." She shrugged her shoulders aimlessly, shaking her head with every syllable and not letting go of her smile. "And I am glad. I am still alive to be the mother of two beautiful children. But…Tony…has not come that far", she remained with her shoulders raised for a moment, "yet."_

"_But he will__?", Gibbs challenged, narrowing his eyes._

"_He will, I am sure of that", Ziva answered earnestly, not letting herself be cornered into defensiveness._

"You_ should know", Gibbs called over his shoulder, already on his way up to MTAC, a smirk creeping onto his face that remained invisible to Ziva._

* * *

_**Present day:**_** NCIS Headquarters - Abby's Lab**

When Gibbs and Ziva entered Abby's lab they found McGee to be already there, both standing behind Abby's work desk. She turned around and beamed at them, her grin becoming even brighter when Gibbs presented her with a CafPow refill.

"You know, after an epiphany I actually thought I'd go back to laying off that stuff again", Abby started randomly, ogling the heavenly liquid. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her, quickly withdrawing the cup again, but Abby was faster and snatched her treat right out of his hand. "But then I realized the idea was stupid the last time I had it and would be stupid every time I'd have it again, so..."

She took a long slurp that eventually caused Gibbs to raise his eyebrows even further, hooking his index finger around the straw and gently removing it from her mouth, "Abby, the case?"

"Right", Abby put the cup down beside her and started typing into her computer, "First I processed Horseman's wound..."

"Horseman? I thought the Sergeant's name was Rivers...", Ziva perked up from where she was standing between Abby and McGee, her eyes wide with confusion.

"It was...I mean it is", McGee verified quickly, getting confused now as well, "Is...was... No, _is_."

"Hello? I thought your hubby was Tony the movie freak?", Abby inserted incredulously, her head snatching towards her best friend, "Never heard of _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow _and the Headless Horseman? Great book, even greater movie..._movies_ actually. No?"

Ziva shook her head, not quite sure if she actually _wanted_ to know. Gibbs, who had been staring at the plasma screen, up until now semi-patiently waiting for some kind of Abby-show to begin, finally turned around and growled, "Abby?"

"Right", Abby turned back to her typing, stopping again, however, when something else came to mind, "Hey, Gibbs, did you know that the name of the guy who wrote _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ is actually Washington Irving? Which is funny 'cause this is Washington and-"

"Abby, please!", Ziva and Gibbs cried out in unison.

"Right, hold your horses, you two", Abby returned sweetly, grinning at her own pun and finally loading the animation, "I found the only knife that could inflict the wound Jimmy found."

McGee craned his neck a little to get a better look while Ziva and Gibbs stepped closer to the screen, where the autopsy picture of Rivers' chest wound morphed into an animated figurine showing the same kind of stabbing wound. Then a long knife appeared and an invisible hand thrust it into Anime-Rivers' chest at a 90 degree angle - in doing so producing the same wound they had seen earlier. With the flick of a finger Abby zoomed in on the knife, magnifying the animation and contrasting it with a picture of the real-life version. The knife looked more like a dagger with symmetrical blades meeting in a needle-sharp tip, about 7 inches long with an oval crossguard and a knurled pattern grip.

"This, Lady and Gentlemen", Abby announced agitatedly, "is the star of our murder-tragedy, a-"

"F-S Fighting Knife, second pattern, no ricasso and no markings", Ziva inserted quickly.

All eyes in the room turned towards her, Abby and McGee sporting the same flabbergasted look while Gibbs gave her a crooked smile before turning back around to inspect the knife further.

"It was the first knife I ever had, yes?", Ziva defended her familiarity innocently, shrugging her shoulders, "It is a finely balanced knife, easy to break when abused but ideal for inflicting stabbing wounds...or for throwing."

"Right...", Abby said, smiling vaguely, "And may I add that I looked it up on eBay and you can make quite a few bucks with this pinly knife as it was first issued around the time of World War II?"

Gibbs turned around to look at her with widened eyes, but Ziva only smiled along, "Then maybe I should consider selling mine."

"You- But that's not the knife you're wearing", McGee surprised everyone with his ingenuous comment.

Ziva kept to her smile but narrowed her eyes and approached him. She put her hand on the desk in front of him, leaning in so that her arm was grazing his torso and her face was only inches from his. While he could only look on apprehensively, Ziva lowered her voice to a flirtatious whisper, "How do you know what I have strapped to my waist?"

"I- I don't... I mean, you-", McGee stammered. Abby smirked, enjoying her life partner's very obvious discomfort, while Gibbs kept his head turned to hide his smug grin.

Ziva eventually broke out into a smile, removing her arm and cupping McGee's chin instead, "I do own more than one knife, Tim." She playfully patted his cheek.

"You done playing grab-ass?", Gibbs growled.

All of them immediately turned back around to face the screen. "I'm also done processing the evidence from Rivers' apartment and lookie what Major Mass Spec and I found", Abby continued cheerfully.

Some kind of molecule structure popped up onscreen. "We found traces of this little friend in an empty pill jar with Rivers' fingerprints all over it", Abby explained and cleared away some of the confusion that had instantly clouded all of their faces, "It's Methadone, a maintenance anti-addictive used for patients on opioids."

"He was trying to get clean", Gibbs mused, turning around suddenly and looking directly at McGee.

"I'll go check detox facilities in the area for Rivers' name", McGee declared knowingly, already on his way out.

* * *

**Bert**** Andrews Rehabilitation Clinic, South-East Washington Area**

It hadn't taken McGee long to find John L. Rivers on one of the patient lists - it hadn't even taken him as much as a warrant. Apparently, the Sergeant had become addicted to morphine during recuperation, one day turning up on the doorstep of Bert Andrews Rehabilitation Clinic and checking himself into the voluntary detox program.

"And two days ago...he just up and left, you know", the program coordinator, a slender man around thirty/thirty-five with greying hair exclaimed innocently.

McGee nodded and typed his statement into his PDA, "And you did not report his disappearance?"

"No, I mean... I thought he was going to meet someone and come back. You don't just go...okay, he'll turn up dead, you know", the man answered somewhat nervously.

"So you didn't report?", McGee asked again, this time a tad bit more forceful.

"Report to who? This is a voluntary facility, man."

McGee nodded his head, trying to hide his scowl by holding his head down and into his PDA. He was just about to ask the man to contact NCIS if he happened to remember anything else, when Ziva's voice was carried into the office from the locker rooms across the hall, calling his name. McGee smiled a last benevolent smile and left.

"What is it?", he asked worriedly when he saw her back away from the locker that obviously belonged to Rivers. When Ziva David was backing away with an appalled look on her face - that definitely had to mean something.

She simply pointed at the opened locker and when McGee stepped closer and looked around her, his eyes fell onto the source of Ziva's disgust and his throat revolted with vomit. Inside lay a severed, human hand, half of the wrist still attached to it, and glared at them with its foul stench and sickening orangey-grey colour.

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva unlocked the door to their apartment at around half past eight in the evening. She had been staying late because they had had to finish up processing the locker as well as every room Rivers had set foot into - not to mention taking the statements of all members of Rivers' group. She was positively beat. She realized she had been right with what she had told Tony: The case that had started out as a semi-ritualistic looking murder was fast becoming an impervious mess. She could feel it and she had seen Gibbs' gut reflecting in his eyes - he could feel it, too.

When she entered the living room, Sarah was already packing her stuff. Sarah was twenty-seven years old, tall and beautiful with long dark blonde hair she mostly wore in a ponytail. She lived only a few blocks from their apartment building and while she was not only Tali's and David's full-time nanny but also part-time nanny of several children in the area, she tried to squeeze in studying at the community college as well. Ziva had to admit, she very much admired Sarah's determination and that's what eventually convinced her to hire her - and Sarah was great with the kids, that having been the other pivotal factor.

"Hello, Ziva", she greeted lightly, scanning the living room for her things once more.

"Good evening", Ziva returned, letting her backpack sink to the floor next to the couch, "Are both of them asleep already?"

"They were out the moment they hung up the phone", Sarah smiled, throwing her bag over her shoulder, "Dinner's in the oven, as usual."

"Thank you, you are an angel", Ziva declared appreciatively.

Sometimes they would strike up some small-talk, exchange news and stories about the kids, but not after such long and enduring days like today. Neither Sarah, after having spent almost six hours babysitting, nor Ziva, after a twelve-hour shift, wanted to spend a second longer in the company of anything but their respective beds. Walking Sarah out Ziva assured her of a normal day the next day, and they eventually and quickly bid their goodbyes. Ziva heaved a sigh when she finally locked the door behind her.

She went upstairs to the bathroom, where she peeled her clothes off her body, taking a quick shower and scowling at the tired rings that had formed under her eyes throughout the day. After putting on her nightgown in her still Tali-free bedroom, she crossed the hall and stepped into her daughter's room. Tali was sleeping peacefully, the covers tangled around her body, the soft glimmer of the fairy lamp bequeathing her with a perfect-angel-look. Ziva bent over the sleeping child and brushed a soft kiss against the little girl's forehead, careful not to wake her in the process. Leaving the door ajar for what she knew would come - or _who_ would come for that matter - she turned right and into her son's room. David was sleeping just as peacefully and comfortably as his sister, his even breathing bringing a smile to Ziva's face.

When she leaned down to give him his customary goodnight kiss, however, his eyes fluttered open shakily. "Mommy, you home", he mumbled drowsily, lifting a hand to her face which Ziva took in hers and kissed gently.

"Yes, mommy's home", Ziva whispered tenderly, smoothing back his light brown hair, "Go back to sleep, tateleh."

"How's your day?", he asked groggily, his eyes already closing again and his face halfway turned into the pillow.

Ziva smiled sweetly at her son who was already back in dreamland before she could even voice her answer. She kissed the top of his head. "It is okay now."


	5. Think or Thought, Wise and Stupid

**THANK YOU **once again for your thoughts, encouragements and motivation. Please...keep 'em coming!

**Tony matter: **For all those of you who commented that they couldn't wait to see Tony make an appearance - you may let yourself be surprised by the next chapter. But until then: enjoy.

* * *

**Chap**** 5 Think or Thought, Wise and Stupid**

_Tuesday, November 5__th__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Ziva was sipping her tea quite contently that morning. It was actually _ten to eight_ in the morning and she was actually on time - _really _on time. She hadn't skipped any integral part of a normal morning just so she could make it to NCIS headquarters on time. Quite on the contrary, her morning had been as normal as a morning with two small children, work at a federal agency and a boss like Gibbs could ever be for a former assassin. Her life, put simply, would never conform to mainstream definitions of _'normal'_.

She stepped into the squadroom at regular speed and without her heart pounding impatiently against her chest, her tea in one, a drink carrier with two more cups in the other hand. McGee was already sitting at his desk, typing away on his computer. That wasn't particularly odd either. As work at NCIS started at zero seven hundred and Ziva could not make it in as early as that because of the kids and wanting to be the one to wake them up in the morning, McGee would pick up the slack - Gibbs being comparatively understanding of her situation as long as she arrived no later than eight. Ziva continuously tried making his efforts up to McGee, but for his constancy she would be forever grateful.

"Good morning", she greeted, putting a styrofoam cup of soy-milked black liquid in front of him.

"Morning", he returned a bit distractedly at first, but gave her an appreciative smile after finishing his recent task a few minutes later.

Ziva couldn't help but notice the tired circles under his eyes and the meek distance in his expression. He seemed unusually preoccupied and she had a pretty good guess as to the reason for that but she decided not to pry - yet. Instead, she quietly started her day by sorting through the mail and her e-mails. Suddenly, a smile sprang to her face.

Every few weeks Tony would surprise her cross-country-ly with what he called_ 'an itsy-bitsy small token' _of his love. Sometimes his ideas would be as traditional as sending pictures, flowers or small video messages. Sometimes his ideas would be practical and sweet, arranging weekends for Ziva to visit theme parks, shows or the occasional must-see kids' movie with David and Tali. Sometimes he would get more creative, once even having had a personified greeting card turn up in the middle of the bullpen to perform a cover of the Chuck Berry classic_ 'You never can tell' - _tellingly called_ 'C'est la vie'_. And sometimes, sometimes his ideas would border the truly sincere of a simple message, a single sentence or a sole memory - she had to admit, those were most dear to her. Today was one of those days. It entailed a simple letter: the epic screencap of Bogart and Bergman and Tony's handwritten note saying that he had come around to watching_ 'Casablanca' _again that weekend and that it had reminded him so much of Ziva. It was as simple as that, but it triggered a memory in Ziva of Tony and her watching the movie together while she had been pregnant with David and Tony quoting _'Here's looking at you, kid' _whenever he had talked to their unborn son from then on.

Theirs certainly wasn't the conventional kind of love. No matter what everyone said, but theirs hadn't been the irrevocable kind of love affair either. If she had to be honest, she hadn't much liked Tony in the first place. They had come from two very different worlds. While hers had been too serious, his he had made too much light of. It had taken her some time to realize that, behind his façade of lightness, there lay much more depth and seriousness than he would ever have vocalized. It had been their being partners, their friendship that had allowed her to dig deeper. Neither of them, however, had had much interest in a relationship with the other - of that they had been sure. As pivotal opposites they had emitted tension and teasing but they hadn't been to one another what they had respectively been looking for in a lover, in something more than a good friend. Somalia had changed that. Somalia had taken their broken friendship to a much higher level by the time they had finally managed to mend what had been broken. Theirs still wasn't the conventional kind of love, but maybe that's what both of them had been looking for in the first place.

McGee's rather forceful assault upon his keyboard eventually yanked Ziva from her wistful reverie. She narrowed her eyes, cautiously calling out to him, "Is there something wrong, McGee?"

He glanced up at her, looking rather bashful. He took a deep breath and straightened out a small cramp in the back of his neck before turning to answer her, "I've been trying for three full hours to unearth more on Sergeant Rivers and pretty much every John Rivers on the East Coast, but there's nothing more to find."

"And that is a good thing or a bad thing?", Ziva asked, tilting her head to the side.

"A bad thing, Ziva", McGee asserted definitely, "The guy had no friends, no immediate family, no family of his own. He wasn't part of any club, gang or sect for that matter. He had no additional leases, no driver's license, no computer - not even a library card. The moment he left High School the Navy sucked him up and didn't spit him back out. It's like, except for the corps, that man never even existed."

"Well, maybe that is why he was killed to begin with", Ziva said half-jokingly but quickly returned to the contents of her computer when she was only met by McGee's glare.

When he continued violating his keyboard with vigorous research, Ziva ruled it unwise to interrupt again and just let him blow off some steam. Since she didn't care for much tension today anyway, an IM from Abby - asking if Ziva was already in - turned out to bear very convenient timing. Consequently, Ziva decided to go visit Abby in her lab, half-heartedly camouflaging her intentions with wanting to check up on Abby's progress with the hand-stub to an only half-listening McGee.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Abby's Lab**

When the elevator doors opened and blaringly loud music greeted her rather violently, Ziva applauded herself for her detour to the vending machine and bringing leverage. She entered the lab only to find Abby stabbing her keyboard with her index fingers. With distraction like that, Ziva didn't even need to tab into her excessive training as a spy to sneak up on her best friend. She did, however, refrain from scaring Abby half to death and simply held the fresh cup of CafPow under the Goth's nose from the side. A smile appeared immediately on Abby's face and she turned around to face her.

Ziva leaned in to speak into Abby's ear, "In exchange for keeping my eardrums intact?"

Abby's smile widened to a knowing grin as she went over to the stereo and turned down the music, transforming audio assault into background humming. Ziva smiled appreciatively and handed the CafPow over. "I guess that means you're already in, huh?", Abby asked rhetorically, closing her eyes in elation when the first gulp of CafPow trickled down her throat.

"Miracles do happen, even with a child so much like Tony as Tali", Ziva answered anyway, sensing the streak of apprehension in her best friend.

"I just finished processing the hand you found in Rivers' locker at the clinic", Abby declared off-topic, turning back around to her computer.

"I am sure Gibbs will love to hear that", Ziva stated, stepping closer to the Goth and continuing in a much lower voice, "But I do not think I am down here to discuss severed body parts."

Abby briefly glanced at Ziva before staring at the screen again, dodging Ziva's incessantly furrowed brows. "You don't happen to know why McGee is abusing his keyboard upstairs while you are down here abusing yours?", Ziva tried again, a softer edge in her voice, "You could just as well agree upon _one_ keyboard and happily abuse it together."

A slack smile found its way onto Abby's lips again and when she couldn't bear staying silent any longer, she turned towards her best friend, declaring rather voicelessly, "We're kinda on edge right now." When Ziva's eyebrows duh-turned upwards, Abby continued, "That assessment woman said she'd give us a call in two days at the latest and, well, it's been two days and we're kinda getting the jeebies here." She timidly bit her lip.

"I am sure everything is fine, Abby", Ziva assured her, putting a tentative hand on the Goth's shoulder, "She will call and you will see. Everything is going to be alright."

"Do you really think that or are you just trying to make me feel better, 'cause I don't wanna feel better if that means we will never get to-"

"Abby", Ziva cut in forcefully, applying the softest kind of pressure with both of her hands now resting on each of Abby's upper arms, "Everything will be alright. No need to worry."

Ziva kept her own smile firmly in place, eventually triggering one on Abby's face. Rather than saying anything else she then wrapped her arms around Ziva who responded by doing the same. Gibbs entered the lab a minute later only to find the two women still engulfed in a supportive hug.

"I sure hope you're celebrating a break in the case", he deadpanned, coming to a halt right in front of them with his eyebrows raised.

"Oh Gibbs, you know that deep down in a chamber of your heart named Tony you want it to be so much, much more than that", Abby smirked while they broke apart, Ziva trying to hide her smile.

Gibbs gave her an odd look, but still conjured up a CafPow from behind his back. Abby voraciously grabbed her second cup of the morning, whispering to no one in particular, "I'm feeling really loved right now."

Gibbs' eyes fell on Ziva's cheer-upper-cup and his eyebrows raised even further, but he let it go and merely stepped up to the plasma screen at the far end of the room, asking plainly, "Got any fingerprint matches off the hand?"

Abby, putting down her second CafPow next to her first and momentarily shooting them an amorous look, started typing into her computer and put up a picture of the disembodied hand Ziva and McGee had recovered the day before onscreen. "Even though we got ourselves a perfectly frozen and well preserved hand, no fingerprints for the Jeth-Master today. They were etched off with acid which, by the way, totally sucks the fun out of all potential _Addams Family_ jokes."

"What about DNA?", Ziva joined in, disregarding her own ignorance of Abby's last comment.

Abby slightly turned towards her, "I've been running the DNA through all databases I can legally think of, but there's still no match. Probably not another Marine, though, and no government employee either…or bone marrow donor…or sperm donor or-"

"I thought I'd asked you what you _got_, Abs?", Gibbs said impatiently while turning around and taking a few steps back, so that his eyes were piercing into hers, "Do you _have_ anything?"

"Don't I always?", Abby returned, throwing her arms to the side with her palms facing upward.

A small smile formed on Gibbs' lips and he turned back to the screen where Abby's savvy keyboard-clicks zoomed in on the ring around to the hand's middle finger, magnifying the image to reveal a ruby-red stone. "A signet ring", Ziva stated.

"Not just any signet ring either", Abby asserted, putting the image of a very similar ring next to it, photocopied on what appeared to be some sort of pamphlet, "I matched the ring to some kind of honorary reception at UDC."

Gibbs quickly turned on his heels, brushing past Abby and motioning for Ziva to follow him. He was already out the door when Abby called after him, causing him to stop hard in his tracks, "Wait, Gibbs, there's more."

"What, Abs?"

"Those rings are awarded in a special ceremony every year and this year's is held today at seven - you might wanna start with that coincidence-I-think-not", Abby answered jovially.

"Good work, Abby", Gibbs nodded with the hint of a smile and left, Ziva hot on his tail but not before shooting Abby one last quick, reassuring smile as well. While Gibbs and Ziva headed upstairs, Abby let a pleased _"Huh"_ slip past her lips. With a grin she grabbed both her morning-CafPows, captured both straws with her mouth and slurped happily with regained confidence.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Back upstairs Gibbs and Ziva were greeted by McGee, "Boss, Abby already e-mailed me her results. The warrant for the University's files just came through."

"Good, look into all recipients and their families. And pull all their criminal records. Look if anyone has a connection to Sergeant Rivers", Gibbs demanded, sitting down at his desk.

"Boss, that honorary reception was established around 1900 and it's awarded in 4 categories. That's like four hundred names alone, not counting their families…", McGee trailed off upon Gibbs' conspicuous glare, "I'll get right to it then."

Gibbs was just turning back to his computer when McGee's lingering stare caused him to look back up at his Senior Field Agent. "You want me to help you, McGee?", he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in disbelief.

"No", McGee answered definitely, "But, seeing as Rivers didn't own any computer devices, I just finished checking his credit card bills and bank account: And there's a definite pattern."

Gibbs nodded and got up, turning towards the plasma screen. McGee quickly reached for the remote and put the bank statements onscreen. Ziva hurriedly fetched the pertaining file from McGee's desk on her way over and briefly wondered about the coffee cup in Gibbs' hand. When her eyes narrowed, a small smirk flickered across her boss's face and she realized that the drink carrier she had brought with her in the morning was now, gladly, empty.

"Good", Gibbs commented curtly.

"Not exactly", Ziva stated, her eyes adeptly scanning the files in her hand.

"There is no suspicious or telling pattern. Nothing that could help us", McGee elaborated, "He paid for everything, every month and on time. The income-expenditure-ratio is almost constant for each month."

"His phone records are even less exciting than that", Ziva asserted while McGee replaced the images onscreen with the corresponding documents.

"Most calls, incoming and outgoing, are to military personnel or affiliates. Sometimes there's the odd call to a delivery service in the area or a doctor's. And then", McGee explained evenly, clicking and zooming in on a particular spot on Rivers' records, "There's this one number."

Gibbs' eyebrows raised in the slightest. Ziva picked up quickly, "Details on incoming and outgoing calls prove this to be his only frequent acquaintance that is not work-related."

"Well, who's its?"

"That's the problem, boss", McGee clarified somewhat degradedly, "When I couldn't hack the system, I secured a court order and called the company. But apparently those files have been erased at the company itself. There are no records this number ever existed."

Gibbs took a sip from his coffee, lingering in contemplative silence for a second before he perked back up, "Who'd be able to do that?"

"With the right equipment it would still need to be someone really, really good to pull that off."

"Or someone inside the company", Ziva remarked.

"That's what I thought. I'm running the names of employees and technical personnel against Rivers' name and all criminal databases right now", McGee answered confidently.

"Good job, Tim", Gibbs said, a small smile hiding behind his lips when he turned on his heel and went upstairs to brief Director Vance in MTAC.

For a short while a proud smile had settled on McGee's face, but was promptly replaced by the unnerved expression Ziva had been detecting all morning. Instead of his serene attitude - an attitude that hugely reassured Ziva's own fiery temper when it came to dealing with difficult cases like this was one - he seemed tense and jittery. And even his usual fervor for work seemed exaggerated by his desire to occupy his thoughts with something else but his thoughts. Getting an idea, Ziva finally stepped up to McGee's desk, leaning down towards her partner of two years.

"You know, I could take on the big bulk of names", she offered benevolently.

"You've been talking to Abby, haven't you?", McGee retorted simply, his voice a little higher than usual.

"Yes, but I do not-"

"You don't need to go easy on me just because this whole adoption thing has me breaking out in hives, okay?"

"You have hives?", Ziva's eyes widened incredulously.

"Not the point, Ziva…"

"Right", she returned to sincerity, propping her elbows up on his desk and looking him straight in the eyes, "I came home very late last night and I thought I might be able to make it up to Tali and David with being on time for dinner today. But I will not be able to do that if I have to accompany Gibbs to that university ceremony in the evening."

His eyes eventually widened a little with realization. "So, you take the name search and in exchange I get the Gibbs fieldtrip?"

"I know, it seems hardly fair-"

"No, no, that's okay", McGee assured her, a small smile creeping onto his face that tried to convey some sort of hidden appreciation, "It's a deal."

He extended his hand so as to make it official but she bent over his desk and brushed a soft kiss against his cheek, smiling at him, "Thank you, Tim."

* * *

**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

The inside of the old warehouse was dark except for the faint shimmer an old, dusty ceiling lamp divided unevenly between the small gathering underneath it. The oldest of the group was leaning against the far wall. Smoke from his cigarette evaporated invisibly outside the light's faint glow, densifying the air around them. A black-haired man was perched on a table nearby, his feet propped up on a stool in front of him. His jacket was hanging lazily from his robust, muscular shoulders and his blue eyes seemed overly alert, narrowed to inquisitive slits. Another man was standing a little to the side, his blonde-brownish hair glowing slightly in the weakly lit terseness of their meeting, its greasy glow only surpassed by the piercing green color of his eyes. He seemed overtly relaxed, his hands idly tickling the insides of his coat pockets. A woman, between forty and forty-five of age, was standing quite close to him, her padded waist hidden beneath a long, mouse-grey coat she kept buttoned up despite the smoky thickness of the moment. Her short, curly brunette hair was almost erased by the density of the air. She kept rubbing her hands together, apparent nervousness emanating from her pudgy build.

"Why're we here?", inquired the older man, smoke puffing heftily from in-between his lips.

"My Spanish contact provided me with reliable intel that Anthony DiNozzo has been granted a two-month leave by his superiors", the blue-eyed man retorted plainly, his eyes not even drifting over to the older man next to him, "He will be here earlier than we had anticipated."

His words sparked a brief glimmer behind the woman's indefinably colored eyes, "Then we don't need to-"

"No, we _need_ to!", snarled the man on the table, his sapphire eyes piercing into her face like thunder. For the first time since their arrival his eyes actually seemed focused on something other than his own thoughts.

"But I- I thought the only reason for- for the accident was to get DiNozzo to come back", she returned timidly, dodging the dark-haired man's incessant and obsessively fierce stare, "I don't understand why-"

"Because this is not a question of why", the blue-eyed man barked.

"But she kinda has a point, doesn't she?", the older man cut in, stepping away from the wall and putting himself in the blue-eyed man's direct line of vision, "Just think about it."

The younger of the two easily skipped down from the table, so that the two men stood facing each other. They were about the same height, so their eyes bore openly into each other. The gentle sparkle of light highlighted the blue-eyed man's face, revealing stony features, hardened lines and clenched muscles, but still a slight tan and his long dark hair rendered him quite handsome. His opponent, however, sported a simple, graying army haircut, the glow of light behind his back only underlining the dark circles under his even darker eyes. The black-haired man scoffed at him derisively.

"I mean, c'mon, let's face it", the older of the two declared blankly, a dim smirk tugging at the edges of his small mouth, "Stage two is about as _Serendipity_ as you can get."

The woman found her voice again, feeling much more self-assured now that she saw her frail opinion supported by one of the others, especially someone closer to the blue-eyed man's strong build. She started meekly, "We could just get somebody else to-"

"No!", the black-haired man insisted vehemently, his face not turning away from the older man's.

"Calm down, dear boy", inserted the green-eyed man calmly.

He had stayed silent up until now, much preferring the observer's position before deciding his stand. He took a step forward so that he could get a better look at the two antagonizing men. They had both turned to gaze back at him expectantly. "We will stick to the plan, no matter what. DiNozzo's not the only reason for stage two", he continued evenly, his eyes set adamantly on the older one of the pair, "Ziva's gotta be out of our way. Always take out the point of greatest risk."

The dark-eyed man finally dragged the cigarette from his mouth and blinked. It seemed enough for both other men to deem their latest issue of discussion and inquiry effectively taken care of. He turned around and resumed his initial position, leaning back up against the wall while tickling the cigarette's butt with his tongue. The blue-eyed man straightened back up, his shoulders relaxing, and nodded at the man who wore his signature long, black coat.

Then he turned around and faced the woman, his green eyes staring holes into her overly make-up coated face, "Or else we might get your hands real dirty. But we wouldn't want that, now would we, princess?" His voice was as darkly deep as ever, its typically light edge hiding beneath a guttural growl. He cupped her chin, his fingers applying just a little bit too much pressure for it to be a gesture of affection. She didn't seem to notice the stinging pain in her jaw, however, as her eyes started losing themselves in his. Their endless green color dazzling her into submission, she shook her head no.

"What to do about Tony the early bird, though?", the older man's husky voice floated back in from behind them.

"The moment you can affirm their involvement, I will put stage two into action", the blue-eyed man answered easily, "It is as simple as that."

The green-eyed man finally let go of the woman and turned back around to face the other men, nodding his agreement. The older man spat his cigarette on the ground and brought his boot heavily down on it, crushing the last glimmer of its tip. He brushed remnants of ash from his shirt and straightened up, clearing his throat. "In that case, you'll have to excuse me now", he sneered, an irreverent smirk plastered firmly on his leather-like face, "I still gotta do some suit-shopping then."

He sent one last glance into the direction of the dark-haired man, who hardly registered it, his blue eyes already losing themselves in a distance no one else would ever know of, or feel. He was getting within inches of his goal, the sole aim of his existence for the past eighteen years. It had taken him exceptionally long, he realized that all right. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now. Not anymore.

He was yanked from his inner banter with fate by the green-eyed man's voice that had regained its shade of lightness. He was talking to the woman. "You know what that means?", he asked, his dark eyebrows rising copiously. She nodded her head vigorously, not even trying to mask her look of dedication and deep devotion. It brought a smug smile to the man's face, "Show me it wasn't wrong to let you in on this. Play your part well, can you do that for me, sweetheart?"

"Anything for you", she whispered bashfully, unable to lift her eyes up to meet his. He wasn't looking at her anymore, however. He was looking at the younger man, black-haired, handsome and yet so distant in his cravings. They nodded at each other. He knew what to do.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

When Ziva slipped into her coat a content smile crept onto her face. Her eyes had just caught a last glimpse of the digital clock in the right-hand corner of her computer screen before it had faded to black for the day. It wasn't even _five o'clock in the afternoon _yet. Her cunning plan had worked out perfectly until now. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and stepped over to Gibbs' desk where he was sorting through files and reports.

"I ran through all the names on the university's honoree list and their family members, checking their criminal records and for possible links to Sergeant Rivers", Ziva started confidently, "And while they have amassed quite a number of offenses between them, nothing connects them directly or even circuitously to the Sergeant or the way he was murdered. But there was little to go on in the first place…"

Even though she tried hard to make her voice sound as self-assured as ever, she was looking quite uneasy. When Gibbs finally looked up instead of only nodding along to her debriefing, he saw right through it. She had dreaded his reaction to her early leaving, since McGee's earlier investigation of the telephone company's personnel had not come to fruition either.

"Give them a hug from their Uncle Gibbs, will ya?", he requested finally, a crooked smile forming on his lips.

Ziva's face broke out into a thankful smile as well, once again glad to witness those rare hints of open gentleness in him. Ever since David's birth she had seen more and more traces of open emotional display in Gibbs, a softer side she had always known to exist but in a much more coated and subtle way. "I will see you tomorrow", she nodded and turned to leave, heaving an inward sigh of relief.

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

"Mommy!", Tali's scream echoed through the entire apartment when Ziva entered the living room nearly half an hour later.

The little girl quickly discarded the conversation she had just had with Sarah and ran over to her mother. Ziva bent down and gathered her daughter up in her arms. "Shalom, tateleh", Ziva greeted softly, placing a kiss against Tali's soft curls and chuckling slightly at the force with which the three-year-old had wrapped her little arms around her neck.

Much less a force of nature, David was now standing in front of her, the glisten in his emerald eyes curious. Ziva smiled at his thoughtful hesitation and held her free arm out to him. The little boy gladly took the last few steps forward and engulfed his mother in a bear hug while Ziva draped her arm gently around him. She carefully bent down and brushed a kiss against the top of his head.

"I know you said something about a normal day, but you're kinda early, aren't you?", Sarah asked, a smile tugging at her lips, "We weren't expecting you for another hour."

"Believe me, I am just as surprised as you", Ziva declared honestly.

With a case like their momentary one she couldn't seem to find the _'pause'_-button to her brain's incessant pondering. Sergeant Rivers appeared to have been so completely alone and solitary in a world so full of so many people. She had once felt so completely alone as well - in that she hadn't been much different from him. She hadn't allowed herself any kind of relationship, any kind of trust for she knew - one way or another - it would all end in shards, in heartbreak, in death. Her adamancy to refrain from too much human and emotional contact had almost cost her the love of her life and with it the two biggest gifts life could have ever bestowed on her - years ago. She wasn't that kind of person anymore. No, if ever something was to happen to her - _Chas veChalilah!_ - she would be missed, she would be looked for, she would have mattered. Nothing could have made that fact clearer than her children's sincere excitement about her early arrival on the scene.

"But I do not want to interrupt anything", Ziva continued, looking from one child to the other and back at Sarah.

"Don't worry, we were just talking about dinner", Sarah waved off, already re-packing her things, "But I guess you'll take it over from here?"

"That is the plan, yes" Ziva asserted, grinning when her children's heads shot up at her in unison.

"You making dinner 'night?", David asked hopefully, always preferring his mother's cooking and the fact he was getting to be her special sous chef too.

"Sphetti?", Tali perked up from Ziva's shoulder as well. For it to be both Tali's and David's favorite dish, Tali especially kept stumbling hilariously over pronouncing it - a very cute fact that kept Ziva hoping Tony would get to teach their children Italian once. It had taken her long enough to find out he could actually speak Italian after all, that he had learned it through night classes at the community college and that his skills weren't actually confined to sleazy pick-up-lines and cheap references.

"Well, how about spaghetti then - for a change?", Ziva quipped, looking at her son questioningly. David nodded his head enthusiastically.

"You just told me you didn't want spaghetti for dinner", Sarah cut in suddenly, her voice playfully defensive and her expression mock-appalled.

"No like your sphetti. Mommy sphetti!", Tali announced matter-of-factly, her face one of utter seriousness. So serious even that both adults couldn't help but find it absolutely adorable.

It wasn't meant as an insult either, rather the proclamation of a well-known fact: Ziva's spaghetti were, undisputable, supreme. "Right, how could I ever hope to compete with mommy's spaghetti?", Sarah claimed over-dramatically and even though Tali didn't quite understand what she had said, she still found her nanny's expression funny enough to giggle.

"You cannot, of course", Ziva laughed, emphasizing exaggeratedly.

"But if you want, I can stay and watch them in the meantime", Sarah suggested, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"Thank you very much, but there really is no need", Ziva declined jovially, hoisting Tali onto her hip. She tilted her head and looked at David, "I have my little helper right here with me and Miss Tali will entertain us, yes?" Both kids nodded their eager agreement.

Ziva smiled at her knowingly and Sarah nodded her understanding - all three of them seemed in need of some serious mommy-time. Even Ziva. Albeit having a job where she was being needed, where she was - and she firmly believed in it too - trying to do good and help people, at home she felt a different kind of need. David and Tali needed her in a way so completely unlike every need she had ever felt before. It was more than grand yet simple dependency. Many a thing in their lives, many a certainty, many a routine revolved entirely around her. It was scary at times, scarier than all those life-threatening situations that had marked her life, and still were - from time to time - marking her life until this day. Then again, it could be so easy. One kiss, one gentle word, one hug could make it better - it was a kind of power and skill she would never have with anything else, no matter her training and her abilities.

After Sarah had left they invaded the kitchen - as promised. David immediately got the stool from its usual place next to the fridge and put up his helper spot right next to where Ziva was quickly assembling all the ingredients for making the pasta from scratch. Tali had, for the time being, requested to be picked up and settled down on the counter next to them. She was chatting away happily about her day at preschool, her arms and legs shooting into every direction as she gestured eagerly. Ziva had knowingly draped one arm around her daughter, holding her energetic display in place, while she kept instructing David with some preliminary tasks like washing down vegetables. She divided her attention between commenting on her daughter's stories - Tali, however, never needed much input anyway - and praising her son. And she enjoying every bit of it. Ziva had never once thought that her training as a Mossad agent would ever come in handy for raising her children - but amidst the dangers and risks of her profession, it sometimes really did.

When Tali got tired of watching her brother and mother prepare dinner, Ziva put her back down and the little girl gathered up a little army of toys and stuffed animals in the middle of the kitchen, so Ziva could still keep an eye on her. She interrupted her play only to tug at Ziva's pant-leg when she remembered certain details of her stories she had previously omitted. Meanwhile, Ziva commented every step of her cooking, so that David could follow what she was doing and wouldn't get bored observing from the sidelines during the stages that weren't exactly suitable for a six-year-old to help out with. Ziva, however, made an effort of including her son's keen interest in her cooking as creatively and as much as possible.

Eventually, David had his mother get dishes and cutlery out of their respective cabinets so he could take to arranging them accordingly on the table while she was putting the finishing touches to their dinner. Tali, sensing that the preparation process was coming to an end and that her favorite part about dinner was about to begin, dutifully put away the toys she had amassed in the meantime and clambered into her chair. Hers was the one Ziva would sit down next to, but it wasn't a special chair anymore. The three-year-old had been seen throwing epic tantrums whenever she had been about to be put into some sort of high chair, so Ziva had eventually skipped them altogether. That didn't make the synchronization of eating and staying clean any easier, but it did make Tali more compliant when it came to bibs or motherly assistance for that matter.

Eating spaghetti was, however, a treat not only catering to Tali's and David's wishes but also a relief for Ziva's otherwise quite stringent views on her children's eating habits. Did she generally raise them not to mess around with their food and did she generally make an effort to keep Tali as clean as possible - spaghetti were a whole different story. Halfway through dinner Ziva was glad she could simply put her daughter in a bathtub afterwards. Kneeling on her chair, the little girl looked like she had put her food everywhere but into her mouth. Her utter delight and enthusiasm made it worthwhile, though - at least to Ziva, at least on this evening.

Ziva and David were trying to stifle their laughter while she tried peeling some wayward noodles off Tali's cheek, when Ziva's cell phone rang. She quickly got up and fetched it from the counter. She had told McGee on her way out to call her in case they found something at UDC. And really, the caller ID showed her partner's number.

"Tim", Ziva answered immediately, her voice dangling between curiosity and dread.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt", he retorted, trying to lace benevolence through the uneasiness in his tone.

"Is there something wrong, McGee?", Ziva picked up on it, immediately sounding worried, "Have you found something?"

"It's more like that something found _us_."

"What is it?", she was growing impatient.

"Instead of a ring there was a human eyeball in one of the boxes", he elucidated calmly, "Attendees didn't take too well to that…obviously."

* * *

**University of the District of Columbia**** - Great Auditorium**

Far off the federal upheaval, a man of about sixty years of age stood smirking at the scene. He could hear people whispering and screaming. He could see people vomiting and fainting. He could feel people's anger, demanding to know what was going on, as he could feel people's anxiety, unsure of what was going on. And he found all those different shades of human reaction to the finding of an eyeball in a ring box hilariously amusing. After all, it must have seemed like some sick joke anyway. He had to admit, their plan was bordering the_ Saw_-idea of joking but, frankly, he did find that quite appealing.

As attending personnel opened windows and doors, his graying hair was trying to sway with the cool breeze of the evening but failed due to its own shortness. He was clad in a brand-new suit, drawing no attention to himself whatsoever. He could have as likely been the congratulating uncle of one of the recipients or a benevolent board member. He cleaned up nice, always had.

On the small stage in the front agents, whose attire showed the letters _NCIS _arranged in neat white, were trying to get the situation back under control. An older guy, who seemed to be in charge, was bellowing at the crowd to get a grip and that they would start taking their statements now. That had to be Gibbs, the man with the graying hair thought. The other guy he knew, of course. McGee hadn't changed. The man took his cell out of his jacket pocket and took a few steps towards the back of the room, the commotion blocking out his subsequent exchange anyway.

It took the man on the other end only a few seconds to pick up. The man overlooking the turmoil in the auditorium affirmed in his husky voice, "They're in. Go do your thing."

* * *

In a lone alley outside Washington's metro area the blue-eyed man smiled faintly. His dark hair and tanned skin rendered him even less visible sitting behind the wheel of a black sedan long after sundown. _Go do your thing._ When the message, the true meaning of that sentence finally registered in his mind, the man's smile solidified. He turned around and looked at the man lying sprawled across the backseat, his hands and feet tied. His light brown hair shimmered in the frail light of the street lamp outside. His hair was short, not long enough to cover the bruises covering his jaw and neck. The blue-eyed man's smile didn't falter. The man in the backseat may have been unconscious but at least he wasn't suspecting what fate had in store for him now. Now that he could…_go do his thing_. Blissfully unconscious or not, that man's end was near.


	6. PRES Weary, wayworn wanderer

**A Thought: **As this _is _a procedural mystery and this is _not _a Q&A ballot, I'm refraining from answering reviews and questions coming up in them. I won't give you spoilers, of course, but if something's confusing you or you think you might have missed something or you feel the need to make an educated guess: Please, feel free to PM me and I will try to answer your questions spoiler-free and finitely informative.

**WATCH OUT** for the date: We're in the post-accident present, this is the direct follow-up to Chap 1. And **THANK YOU** once again for your reviews and interest for this wee little story o' mine.

**AND **yes, **TONY **makes his first non-onscreen appearance. As this chapter is central to my story structure, I would love to hear your thoughts!

* * *

**Chap 6 Weary, way-worn wanderer**

_Friday, November 15th 2018_

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

_He was turning the cell phone around in his hand. It was hers. It was Ziva's. _

When he had stormed in through the double swing doors leading into the emergency room, bellowing Ziva's name at the woman sitting behind a bulletproof glass front at the reception area, two Metro police officers had handed him a plastic bag. One had told him to go find Agent Gibbs in the adjacent waiting room. The woman at the reception counter had nodded her head in affirmation, mumbling something about a doctor, whose name Tony had already forgotten, and that aforesaid doctor would come to find him there. Tony had found the waiting room alright, but he hadn't found Gibbs.

Gibbs still wasn't there.

So, without knowing why, Tony opened the plastic bag. What he found inside, however, caused knots in his stomach and a lump formed in his throat: Ziva's personal effects that paramedics had pulled off her at the scene. Tony slowly descended his hand into the bag, refusing to deal with its contents all at once. Instead, he kept pulling remnants and memories from a small, black plastic bag like Houdini would rabbits from a top hat. _Houdini… _

"_Ziva, did you kill Houdini?"_

"_It is possible. I do not remember all their names."_

As if fate had been guiding his hand, the first thing grazing his fingers, the first thing he laid eyes on was Ziva's silver Magen David pendant. He knew the story. She had told him the story - the story of how she had come to wear the golden pendant he had seen her wear the first time he had ever laid eyes on her. She had told him the story of the day that pendant had been ripped off her neck by that fucking bastard Saleem. And he knew that she had spent the first few bucks she had been able to spare after Somalia and back in the U.S. on a new, silver pendant. Just like she would have never taken off her golden pendant voluntarily and without letting that old part of herself die in that fucking desert right with it, she never took off that silver one. He closed his fist around that piece of emotion-laden jewelry, unable to bear those shards and flashes of memories flickering idly before his inner eye like shellfire. He slowly downed his fist in his pocket, leaving the pendant there to wait for the right moment. He felt relieved - it would have been too much of Ziva to look at, too much of her.

Then he took out her ID and her badge - those two things always went together. He gazed at the picture that had been taken at a time when she had still been the Mossad liaison officer. Thirteen years lay between Tony and that picture. He traced the golden edges of her badge with the tip of his index finger. That badge meant so much risk, so much deliberate hazard they were continually submitting themselves to. Nobody knew that better than Ziva. He remembered that peculiar glisten in her eyes on the day of David's birth. He had only ever seen that same glisten in her eyes once before - in that torture chamber in Somalia. She had been scared, for once, really scared. He knew that every day in her life was a silent battle between her instincts as a mother and her instincts as an agent. Tony scoffed. And now a mere car accident could have been the end of her. He put both her ID and her badge into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. He knew better than to look for her gun in that bag, though. She never went to pick up their children with a gun in the car.

When he retrieved the folded picture from the bag he had almost vomited into it. He quickly put it into his pocket with her badge and ID, not needing to unfold and look at it. He knew what kind of picture it was, what kind of picture with what kind of message he had left in his car for her to find. Something inside of him had briefly felt pleased that she had put the picture into her pocket. The last two years hadn't been easy for her, but he knew she loved him - still. Just as suddenly as pleasure had gripped a part of him, dread washed over him like bucket of ice water. _What if-_ No, he couldn't, he couldn't think like that. Eventually, he took out her cell, crumpled up the plastic bag and threw it violently into a nearby trashcan.

Now he was toying around with that cell, opening it, closing it, scrutinizing it, cleaning it. He used his fingernails to rub traces of caked blood from its display, marveling at its renewed splendor and the picture of Tali and David she used as display background. He clicked the green button, opening her caller list. And there it was again, a volatile fact that had been trying to invade his brain all the way down to the hospital. He had been home, getting ready for lunch and for picking up David when Gibbs had called. _Gibbs_. She had called Gibbs. Gibbs was number two on her speed dial. Not he, not Tony, not her life partner. He could have slapped himself for the feeling of jealousy that spread in the pit of his stomach. He was a grown-up man in a grown-up relationship with the woman he loved, the mother of his two children. Gibbs was a father to her. He knew that for a fact. Gibbs was more of a father to her than her own father had ever been. She cherished him like a father. And Tony… He had been gone. If it hadn't been for his bad conscience upon missing Tali's birthday party he doubted he would have put in that request for a two-month leave. He wouldn't have been here right now. Gibbs wouldn't have called their apartment, he would have put in a long-distance call to Spain. How could he have helped her if she had called him - he, Tony, who should have been in Spain right now, doing his thing? Gibbs was there, Gibbs was who she had called.

As if on cue, the man in question stepped through the door of the waiting room. Tony could hear beeping and fluttered talking and crying wash in from outside the doors before Gibbs closed them again behind him. He squared his shoulders and stayed by the door, however, looking at Tony.

"I cleaned her cell", Tony mumbled aimlessly, showing him the clean display of Ziva's phone, "It was full of blood."

"I hardly understood a word, but they took her up to surgery right after stabilizing her down here", Gibbs explained evenly, his stare not faltering.

"This shouldn't have happened", Tony shook his head, unable to lift his gaze to meet Gibbs'.

"'Course it shouldn't have."

"No, not like this. The crazy ninja chick shouldn't be offed by a drunk driver. It's not right", Tony continued warily, finally looking up at Gibbs, "It's just not right, boss. It's not right."

"Nothing's right about this."

"Nothing's right…"

Gibbs could only look at his former Senior Field Agent. When he and Ziva had told him about their relationship, about them breaking Rule #12 ten times over, he had been angry. He had thought their fling would cost them as dearly as his had cost him. However, in the case of his former Senior Field Agent and the former Mossad assassin Rule #51 had applied: Gibbs had been wrong. Their relationship hadn't been a fling but a commitment they had both been willing to make for the long haul. David and Tali were living proof of that. Gibbs had actually been proud of them. That pride had evaporated, however, the moment Tony had told him about his reassignment to their field office in Rota. In Gibbs' mind Tony had carelessly spat on his commitment with Ziva. Even though Ziva had continuously reassured him, it had taken Gibbs up to this day to realize that Rule #51 applied once more: Tony hadn't given up on his relationship with Ziva, he had taken a different turn in the road - a _wrong_ one, Gibbs was adamant about that, but still only a turn. Gibbs realized that the moment he had laid eyes on the blubbering mess in the waiting room that was Tony, the former bachelor-en-longue-durée.

Gibbs took a step towards him. "Abby called. I had no signal in here, so I went outside to talk to her."

Tony nodded and Gibbs doubted his words were even registering in Tony's mind. Tony was still carefully tracing and caressing Ziva's cell as if willing her to materialize like Jeannie from the bottle. "Did you know I asked her to marry me once?", Tony said suddenly, "Right after David was born."

Gibbs shook his head vaguely. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, I asked. Got down on one knee, ring and dinner, all the works", Tony continued faintly, a chuckle escaping his lips, "She refused…obviously, said she wouldn't tie her trust to a piece of metal."

A soft smile formed on Gibbs' lips, "Sounds like her."

"She always trusted me, you know? After Somalia…"

"She's been through worse, Tony", Gibbs assured him, for the first time calling him by his name.

That eventually caused Tony to look up at Gibbs, really look at his former boss, his mentor, through the piercing, shattered greenness of his emerald eyes. "I can't lose her, boss. I won't survive without her", he admitted hoarsely.

When Gibbs didn't answer him, Tony finally put Ziva's cell on the little table next to his chair just so that he could bury his face in his now free hands. He rubbed his eyes, unable to cry and yet trying to scratch away the stinging pain of desperation nonetheless. He didn't look back up until he heard Gibbs' voice coming from the chair next to his. "You survive", Gibbs stated decidedly, looking not at Tony but at the eggshell wall opposite them, his voice laden with memories, "If you lose her, Tony, you will survive. Because you are who you are. And that's what you do: You survive."

Tony gazed at him incredulously. Their relationship hadn't been at its best for the past two years, to say the least. A part of Tony had always regretted and dreaded that it had been damaged beyond reprieve. Gibbs' words, however much their true meaning pained him, ultimately relieved that fear altogether. Still, Tony could do nothing but stare at Gibbs, his emerald eyes blank with worry.

"But you won't lose her", Gibbs said finally, turning to look at Tony, "She knows she's needed here."

Tony nodded weakly, but his head shot up immediately when a most pressing thought invaded his mind for the first time, "The kids-"

Gibbs shook his head at once. "Don't worry 'bout them. Vance sent agents to pick them up and take them back to headquarters to stay with Abby and Tim. When Abby called Tali was already with them and David's on his way."

Tony didn't say anything. For a little while he just wanted to hate himself, hate himself for almost forgetting about his two children, their whereabouts, how this would be affecting them. Others had taken care of them, however, just like they always were. He wouldn't even know how to talk to them, let alone how to break the news to them: _Mommy was in an accident, maybe she won't ever come back again. _No, he couldn't even deal with it himself. How could he even hope to be able to help a six- and a three-year-old deal with it? They were better off with their Auntie Abby and Uncle McGee - if they couldn't have their mommy, those two were the best they got.

For the upcoming six and a half hours Tony remained in exactly the same chair, remaining in exactly the same position. Gibbs got up and left the room a few times to fetch coffee - coffee he held under Tony's nose until the younger agent had downed the whole cup in an hour-long sip-by-sip ordeal. Twice he got something to eat from a nearby vending machine - food he forced Tony to eat by threatening to force-feed him if he didn't. Gibbs had practically taken it upon himself to keep Tony functioning - functioning enough to make it through what was to come. Once Gibbs left the room to accept another call from Abby.

"Any news?", it was McGee's voice on the other end, sounding rather nervous.

"Nothing yet", Gibbs returned simply. It was actually as simple as that. Nobody was telling them anything. He had taken to pestering nurses three hours ago, but they kept referring to mystery doctors and surgeons that persistently failed to show.

"How's Tony holding up?"

"He manages."

McGee sighed. "We took the kids back with us. We just told them", he started carefully, taking Gibbs' silence as a sign to continue, "Didn't take it too well… Tali's crying. I don't know about David, though, he hasn't said a word since. Abby's still with them. She's pretty shaken up herself."

"Thank you, Tim." Gibbs didn't know what else to say but McGee understood, even though his nod remained invisible to his boss.

Gibbs hung up assuring McGee that he would call as soon as they knew more about Ziva's condition - or rather, as soon as they knew _anything_. However, when he went back to the waiting room he was just in time. He re-entered only seconds behind a doctor in blue scrubs. Tony, who had jumped up from his seat and was painfully reminded of not having used his legs for almost seven hours, looked relieved when Gibbs went to stand next to him, both men facing the doctor.

"Are you the family of Agent David?", the doctor started calmly. He seemed old enough to be attendant, his hair was short, dark brown and unruly from what must have been wearing a cap for the duration of the surgery.

Tony nodded while Gibbs remained still and unmoving. "I'm Doctor Bennett", he extended his hand for both men to shake limply, "I'm chief surgeon and was in charge of your wife's surgery."

Tony only nodded again, he didn't care to correct the doctor. Who cared, really? He was scared for the love of his life. What difference did it make if he was scared for a partner or a wife?

"Let me tell you up front that the surgery went accordingly and that your wife is a very lucky woman indeed", Bennett claimed, emitting that bit of self-assured authority that kept Tony upright, "Even though she broke several rips, none of them pierced vital organs. We had to deal with a ruptured spleen but we stopped the blood leaking into the abdominal cavity in time for us to preserve it. She did, however, suffer a severe concussion and she broke her left arm where she was slammed against the car door. Her seat belt and the airbag caused a crack of the sternum. First we suspected a sternal fracture which led us to suspect severe injuries to the heart or to the lungs, but luckily we were mistaken. A cracked sternum will heal by itself when left alone."

The images that were thus created inside Tony's head re-aroused vomit to gush all the way up his esophagus, though the lump in his throat seemed to stop it from spilling. Gibbs was trying to take it all in, trying to process the information. He wasn't good with hospitals, but he was even worse with car accidents. Too many memories. He was, however, somewhat relieved he was listening to a list of injuries instead of that simple shake of the head, that simple phrase of condolence.

"Right after the accident she was still conscious due to shock. I gather she might even have talked to you?", Bennett continued.

Gibbs nodded his head, even though the doctor's eyes were firmly planted on Tony. Tony let that go, he didn't care about anything but Ziva right now, Ziva alive and precariously healthy.

"However, she went into cardiac arrest and her lungs collapsed on the way to the hospital. We were able to stabilize her before the surgery and we successfully treated her injuries. There is no need for us to believe that she has suffered any kind of brain damage, but we still cannot be sure-", Bennett's voice took on a much softer timbre at the following words, "since your wife slipped into a coma during surgery."

The muscles in Tony's neck clenched. "Wha- Coma?", he choked out, his voice sounding so different than usual that Gibbs finally took that moment to put a hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"A coma doesn't necessarily have to be a bad thing", Bennett assured him quickly.

"It's a coma. How the hell isn't that a bad thing?", Tony spat, anger he didn't know he was holding inside gradually boiling. He was balling his hands to fists. He needed to punch something, someone.

"Her body doesn't want to deal with keeping her conscious and healing her wounds at the same time. Her body wants to concentrate on healing. A coma can actually accelerate recuperation."

"If she ever wakes up", Tony sneered but turned to face Gibbs when the older man gripped his shoulder even tighter.

"She will."

"Nothing indicates that she won't, Agent David. We have every right to hope for a quick and full recovery", Bennett declared, his voice sincere, "I will, however, need your wife's medical records. We encountered extensive scarring tissue and several previous fractures."

"Torture camps tend to do that to you", Tony growled.

Upon Bennett's disbelieving yet strangely understanding expression, Gibbs offered quickly, "Her physician, Dr. Mallard, will get you all the records you need. He'll come talk to you first thing tomorrow."

"That will suffice, thank you."

Tony narrowed his eyes at Gibbs but still appreciated his input and help. "Can I see her?", Tony asked eventually, his tone much calmer now.

"She's being monitored round the clock at ICU, room 713", Bennett answered benignly, "I will be on duty for the next couple of days. Here is my beeper number. Please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any further questions."

"Thank you", Gibbs answered sincerely, taking the doctor's card from him.

"I firmly believe that coma patients do hear us talking to them by the way." He gave them one last, slender smile before exiting the room.

Tony faintly remembered thanking him as well, before he turned back towards Gibbs. "She's alive", he said simply.

Gibbs refrained from any kind of _'I told you so'_-remark, putting on a small smile instead. Inside, however, he couldn't help but think that in those thirteen years he had known Ziva David, that woman had gone through almost too much for one lifetime to bear. And now this. He had hoped she would have found peace with Tony, with David, with Tali - with their family. Life kept hitting, though, no matter what.

"But not alive enough, eh?", Tony half-quipped, sinking back into his chair and driving a hand through his already messy hair.

"She'll come around", Gibbs assured evenly, standing by Tony's side. He didn't know it then and there, but that simple sentence would become his mantra from then on.

While Gibbs stared down at him, Tony kept his eyes planted to a stain on the wall across the room. "What about the kids? Do I let them see her?", he asked suddenly, his voice bordering on panic.

"One step at a time, Tony", Gibbs retorted calmly, "I'll go and call McGee. They already told them about Ziva's accident, they'll find a way to tell them about her coma too. You go see her. She needs you there."

Tony nodded, unable to formulate a plan in his mind and, for once, so very thankful that somebody was telling him what to do. He realized he wouldn't be able to do this on his own, he just wouldn't be. He lifted his head and looked into his former boss' solemnly narrowed eyes. Gibbs nodded his head, gave him a soft pat on the back and then turned to leave the room to make the call. He was almost gone when Tony's voice caused him to look back around.

"Sleeping", Tony exclaimed, his voice raw with emotion. When Gibbs only stared at him, he elucidated, "The kids. They can tell them she's sleeping really tight." Gibbs understood and nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

And then he left.

Tony was left alone in that waiting room once again. He hated hospitals, he always had. He had hated hospitals with a passion ever since spending days after days in them as a little boy, waiting anxiously for doctors to tell him that his mommy was alright - and when they had finally come, it had been to tell him she would be flying with the angels now. He had been eight years old. Ziva had been eight when she had lost her mom to a retaliatory strike during the First Intifada. Their kids weren't even eight years old yet, David and Tali were so much younger - much too young to lose their mommy, much too young.

Tony eventually couldn't stand that room anymore and started meandering down appallingly similar corridors in search for Ziva's room. He was following lines on the walls, little numbers, signs as if caught up in a daze. People were running around, dashing through the halls, until he found ICU and his surroundings grew eerily quiet after stepping through its double doors. His eyes scanned the little plaques attached to every door until three small digits caused him to stop hard in his tracks: 713. He heaved a sigh and, deciding that it wouldn't get any easier with time, entered her room.

It was bleak, whitish, nothing.

He immediately crossed the small distance between the door and her bed, coming to stand right next to her. She seemed so weak, broken, so shattered. A drip was constantly pumping medication into her system by way of a needle in the back of her hand, an endotracheal tube was covering her mouth, deep and carefully treated gashes were covering her face. Her usually sparkling dark hair was sticking to her head and some loose strands pointlessly covered the pillow space around her. Crusted blood still stuck to parts of her hairline where nurses had forgotten to wash it off. Her left arm was clad in a cast and held up by a sling. He didn't dare to lift the bedclothes and uncover the bandages he knew were stabilizing her chest. The beeping of the ventilator was the only sound in the room.

She seemed so still, so completely still. Compared to who she was _en direct_ she appeared even stiller. Before he knew it his fingers were tracing her features, cautious to avoid every gash, every cut, every wound. "I love you, you know that?", he whispered sullenly.

He sighed when nothing came - no retort, no narrowing eyes, no wicked smile. Ziva had never been one for abundant use of abbreviations and he had always found one way or another to tease her about it. He only ever appreciated her full use of a language when it came to exchanging _'I love you'_s. She never cut that sincerest of confessions short, no matter what language she was talking in. She never reduced it to a simple, passing _'You too'_. She always said it all.

He went over to the corner of the room and got a chair, placing it next to Ziva's bed. Before he sat down, however, he took Ziva's pendant out of his pocket and put it back around her neck, neatly arranging the Star of David to rest squarely on her décolleté. A small smile flickered across his sober features. He sat down. Now she at least appeared somewhat whole again.


	7. A Human Stirring

**Mid-Disclaimer: **I lay no claim to the characters of NCIS, NCIS itself or anything else that is the intellectual property of anyone but me - Chapter Titles included _(because they are plays on or quotes from poems in case anyone's wondering…)_.

**Mid-Story-Recap: **After an Intermezzo in the Tony-induced present, we're back to wonderung what happened in the weeks prior to Ziva's accident. What led up to it? What is its connection to the case NCIS had been working on? What about that case anyway? How does Tony fit into the picture? Does he even fit? No better way to find answers than to...(insert scrolling now)...

* * *

**Chap 7 A Human Stirring**

_Wednesday, November 6__th__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

It was around _nine o'clock in the morning_ down in Abby's lab. McGee was busying himself with an idea he had had at around six that morning and had subsequently been trying to put into action ever since. A few months ago he had started complaining about his computer up in the bullpen, its ancient operating system, its slow pace and the reduced quality of his work. Gibbs, ever the tech-lobbyist, had started ignoring McGee's complaints around that same time, once in a while suggesting another detour down into the subbasement to re-join his old followers from cyber crime - that usually put an end to McGee's whining. In protest, however, he had taken to exploiting Abby's computers for his grander ideas and schemes.

So, while he was taking up most of Abby's equipment, the forensic specialist herself was leaning against her desk and looking at Ziva, who was standing opposite her. "I simply don't know what to get a seven-year-old", Ziva conceded dejectedly.

They were discussing a friend's birthday party David had been invited to and the gift that would inevitably be needed for it. The party wasn't until the week after next, but in her line of profession and in her life Ziva knew one thing for a fact: Something always came up. Hence she had promised her son a shopping trip for later that afternoon when she came home and hoped she would be able to keep that promise seeing as their momentary case was getting more bizarre by the day. She really hoped. Breaking promises made to David was among the hardest things for her - not because he would declare hating her, or throw a tantrum, or cry. If ever disappointed, David would try to make sense of it first. Consequently, he would try to understand that Ziva would have worked late and therefore couldn't have made it home any earlier - and the understanding disappointment in his eyes would be even harder to look at than tears.

"You do know you got a six-year-old yourself, right?", Abby quipped.

"I do, but he is not a lot of help on shopping trips", Ziva smiled.

"No, but you're kinda supposed to have the hang of it motherly experience-wise, right? I mean, you got David that awesome, totally perfect present for _his_ birthday."

"Yes, but I do know my own son and I highly doubt seven-year-old Andrew Fox would be very happy with a compilation of Hebrew fairytales."

Abby narrowed her eyes. "You might have a point there. I think we're lacking the touch of testosterone here", she mused, turning to McGee, "What do ya say, Tim?" McGee kept his eyes plastered to the computer screen, unblinking.

"McGee!", Abby whined, louder and with much more emphasis.

McGee, however, only blinked, a grunt that sounded very much like a _'Huh?'_ slipping from his lips. His eyes remained focused. "Major birthday-present-crisis here, McGee. What would you get a seven-year-old without a discernable hobby?", Abby's eyes widened and she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"A hand", McGee mumbled absentmindedly.

Ziva chuckled. Abby put up her arm, ostensibly warding off McGee's face, and scoffed, "That's it. You're officially ostracized from our think-tank. And come to think of it any future birthday-present-finding-mission if we aren't adopting cannibals."

"What?", McGee exclaimed suddenly, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen.

Abby just stared at him. He shook his head and turned back to his work. Ziva couldn't help but grin at their exchange. "Speaking of which…", Ziva started, hoping she wouldn't have to formulate an entire sentence as she was quite a bit unsure of how to address the subject at the moment.

"The assessment woman called", Abby answered instantly, a small, hesitant smile playing on her lips, "She said she wanted to sit down with us again in two days."

"That is good…right?", Ziva tried enthusiastically, searching Abby's eyes for the truth.

"Right…", Abby retorted uncertainly, biting her lip, "I hope so… _We_ hope so."

Both women turned to look at McGee who hadn't stopped whatever he was doing, however. He seemed especially absent around their morning conversation today. His eyes twitched slightly to the side when he felt their eyes on him, but he didn't fully turn and engage himself in what they were talking about. "You think Rivers' death and the dissected body parts are connected?", he asked finally, completely off-topic.

Abby heaved a quiet, inward sigh. When it came to their current situation of adoption, McGee tried hard to occupy his mind, immersing himself in his work even more than usual. Especially outside the sanctuary of their apartment, outside the sanctuary of privacy he would try to ignore the subject altogether. Abby was fine with that, at least she tried to be. That didn't mean she was wholeheartedly liking it, though.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at her partner. "Yes, McGee, they definitely are, seeing as we found the hand in Sergeant Rivers' locker and the eyeball in a ring box the hand all but pointed at?", she answered slyly, giving him an incredulous look, "Where is the eyeball anyway?"

"Oh, you know Ducky. He loves to look at the eyes", Abby retorted.

Ziva nodded. "No, I mean… I know that", McGee perked up again, obviously caught up in his own line of conversation, "But the parts are obviously not Rivers', so there's gotta be another corps out there somewhere."

"Ya think, McGee?", Gibbs deadpanned, entering the lab with Ducky hot on his heel.

"In fact, I think we are looking at quite the paper chase set-up, Timothy", Ducky asserted, furrowing his brows, "Which reminds me of a college professor of mine, old Cesan Nighy, who liked to plant clues in corpses and all over campus for us students to find as a method of evaluation." Ducky trailed off when he found everybody in the room looking at him strangely.

"I realize it must sound like a very morbid teaching technique?", Ducky asked innocently.

"Not if my name was Morticia", Abby quipped, smiling innocently when Gibbs turned towards her with a smugly annoyed expression. "What? I had to get the Addams Family in there _somewhere_. But…before you ask-", she paused for dramatic effect, tilting her head, "Yes, you can be Lurch. Absolutely. You already got the grumpy attitude and the grunting down to a tee. Anybody else would be like…the Duke as Genghis Khan of miscasts."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, his look one of utter disbelief. "Tony sent me his John Wayne collection last week because he felt he wasn't paying the Duke enough homage anymore", Abby flung herself into an off-key explanation but trailed off when Gibbs kept staring her down, "But I guess you don't care so much about that, do you?"

Abby shrank away from Gibbs' piercing eyes. After a short pause of joint silence, Gibbs growled exasperatedly, "Is anybody gonna say anything I _wanna_ understand?"

"For the last couple of hours I've been writing a program by defragmenting-", McGee started but stopped immediately when Gibbs turned his annoyance towards him. Finding body parts strewn out all over the city with no effective lead on their initial murder case was certainly taking a toll on Gibbs' already delicate mood.

Taking Gibbs' raised eyebrows as a pivotal hint, McGee decided to refrain from too much _modus technologus operandi_. "You really don't need to know _how_ I did it…only…_why_ I did it, right boss", McGee started over slowly as Gibbs leaned onto the desk next to him, "I wrote a program that aligns our crime scenes with several digital databases like criminal records, case files, news reports, satellite imagery... Essentially, it's looking for any kind of circumlocutory correlation between single items of a presumably interconnected matter. Single items meaning for example the way Rivers was murdered, generalized locations or pieces of evidence found."

Gibbs was nodding along to his agitated explanation while McGee was producing various images on his computer that he had incorporated into his search by designing land plots and computing an accurate scale for each of them. Despite his boss' nodding, however, McGee could feel he had lost Gibbs somewhere along the way. His eager smile evaporating, McGee summed up plainly, "It's trying to find _any_, really _any_ kind of connection between either Rivers and the hand or the hand and the eyeball or the eyeball and Rivers or-"

Gibbs rolled his eyes, turning his head to face McGee and pierce irritated holes into the younger man's face. "…or all three of them", McGee finished quietly, "I actually thought this was kind of a great idea, but…no hits so far and I've been tweaking parameters for an hour now, so..."

Gibbs sighed slightly, focusing on the numbers and names rolling down on McGee's computer screen. "So there probably isn't one."

Ziva stepped up to the desk and equally lunged into her own sit rep, "I confirmed all the statements you took yesterday at the ceremony and ran background checks on all people attending as well as every member of staff, especially those who could have had access to the ring boxes. None of them had any kind of connection to Sergeant Rivers or…a history of cannibalism for that matter. So, basically-"

"Basically, Gibbs, we have like…zilch", Abby confirmed degradedly, holding two tightly clasped fists into Gibbs' face.

"I beg to differ, my ladies", Ducky cleared his throat and held up the evidence jug with the eyeball inside and another, smaller one containing a tiny piece of metal.

Abby clapped her hands excitedly, "Whatcha got for me, Duckman?"

"Well, I thought maybe _you_ could shed some light on that matter", Ducky said, handing both pieces of evidence over to the forensic specialist, "I retrieved this shard of metal from inside the vitreous body. It seems to have been inserted from behind, so to say, after the eyeball had been removed from its hole and the optic nerve had been cut."

"Looks like a computer chip", McGee asserted, catching a quick glance of it before Abby put it into the ascertained plug-in of her computer and its contents opened up onscreen, "A computer chip with heavily encrypted content."

"Then _un_-crypt it", Gibbs demanded.

"On it, boss."

Turning back towards Ducky, Gibbs' tone somewhat softened, "Duck, would you do us the honors and go over Sergeant Rivers' autopsy report?"

"Jethro, I'm sure Dr. Palmer did a perfectly thorough job", Ducky countered.

"I know that, but I need someone to be _more_ than thorough", Gibbs argued, lowering his voice and leaning closer to his oldest friend.

"Very well then", Ducky conceded, straightening his glasses, "But under professional protest."

Gibbs nodded, giving him a short, appreciative smile. "Ziva", he turned to his most experienced field agent, "You're with me."

"Where are we going?", she asked, already by his side.

"We'll interrogate every damn person on that base, even the General's doggy walker if we have to", Gibbs growled, already on his way out of Abby's lab with Ziva following his lead, "Somebody's _bound_ to miss that guy."

* * *

**NCIS H****eadquarters - Autopsy**

"Agent Gibbs is lucky no one has claimed the Sergeant's body yet", Palmer exclaimed derisively, standing on the opposite side of the autopsy table while Ducky was reviewing his autopsy report, cross-checking every detail with Sergeant Rivers' corps.

"There is no need for you to feel scorned, Dr. Palmer", Ducky retorted decidedly, glancing at his former apprentice over the rim of his glasses.

"He doesn't think I can do what you did, Dr. Mellard."

"I don't think Agent Gibbs is making this to be a statement about your qualification or abilities", Ducky affirmed, turning to examine the Sergeant's head.

"Then why doesn't he trust my initial report?", Palmer challenged, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Ah well, Dr. Palmer… _There_, I daresay, is the colloquial rub", Ducky raised his eyebrows and right index finger, looking the younger man straight in the eye, "Trust is a many faceted and acutely multifarious thing, especially with a man like Gibbs."

"So, what you're essentially saying is that Gibbs doesn't trust me, right?", Palmer asserted, his own glasses slipping almost to the tip of his nose.

"What I'm saying, my dear lad, is that trust has to be earned again and again."

"Yes, but-"

"Did you notice this tear on the Sergeant's labium superius?", Ducky asked suddenly, pointing to a severe gash on the left side of Sergeant Rivers' upper lip.

"I did, but the Sergeant's head was impaled on a pike, Dr. Mellard. Superficial facial wounds are to be expected", Palmer defended, leaning over the corps now as well.

"Yes, but the wound would be more of a cut than a laceration", Ducky mused, pulling back the Sergeant's lip and inspecting the area right underneath the external injury, "There is a tear in the underlying gum tissue as well." Palmer leaned in to look for himself, inwardly affirming Ducky's findings.

Ducky took another look into the Sergeant's autopsy file, his eyes narrowing, "This man was struck in the face not long before his death."

"But I found no defensive wounds on the knuckles or anywhere else", Palmer disagreed.

"The answer to that is right in here as well", Ducky declared plainly, "The man's alcohol level."

"It can't be. I had Abby check the blood alcohol with everything else", Palmer returned defensively, taking the file from Ducky and a look for himself, after which he exclaimed quickly, "It's 0.6 - not unusual or impedimental for a man of his build and background."

"Maybe not under normal circumstances, but in combination with his history of drug abuse and the amounts of Methadone in his system-"

"-he would have seen too many versions of his opponent to defend himself", Palmer finished delicately, his eyes wide with eventual realization.

Ducky nodded, putting the file down on the table and going over to his old desk so as to fetch his cell phone and report his findings to Gibbs. "I can't believe I missed that", Palmer perked up degradedly, "I will never be as good as you, Dr. Mellard."

When Ducky turned around he found the younger man leaning against the autopsy table, his arms hanging limply at his sides and his eyes wide with embarrassment. Ducky took sympathy at the bashful mess his former novice had become and walked back over. He put a hand on Palmer's shoulder, giving him an understanding smile. "To tell you the truth, Jimmy, I sometimes wish it were the other way around", the older man started kindly, continuing upon Palmer's disbelieving look, "I have seen so many victims, victims of assault, of war, of murder that I sometimes wish I would lack the experience to notice the signs."

* * *

**Marine Corps Base Quantico**

Gibbs was standing a few feet away from Ziva, interrogating a PFC and Lance Corporal from Rivers' squad while Ziva stood facing a young Corporal, both trying to find out anything to help them get on with their case and - no less pressing on Ziva's mind - help get her home early enough to go on that shopping trip with her son. They had been spending the last three hours going through Sergeant Rivers' squad, brachiating through PFCs and Lance Corporals - Gibbs currently taking over the last two while Ziva had the dubious honor of starting with the higher ranking enlisted men. Even though Ziva had insisted they do it the other way around, starting with the NCOs, Gibbs was rather adamant they peruse virtually the whole base. By the look of things, Ziva wouldn't make it to her simple yet significant shopping trip after all. And to make matters worse, she was getting a terribly overt vibe.

"I never actually got to talk to the Sergeant off base, you know what I mean?", Corporal Runyon stated plainly. A small smile dripped from his face.

Ziva eyed him warily, alternating looks between the Marine and her PDA. "Your record shows you served with the Sergeant for two years. And you tell me you never once talked to the man?"

"Sure, on tours, in training, during briefings. Strictly on-base stuff, you know", he elaborated and, lowering his voice a little, he added, "We never, you know…_socialized_ outside the corps." Another smile flickered across his face.

Ziva finally lifted her head up enough to get a good look at him. He was half a head taller than her, so she rolled her eyes upwards and eyed him from beneath her inquisitively furrowed brows, a small smile tugging at a corner of her mouth. She scanned his muscular build from top to bottom, resting a fleet second on the lower middle before dragging her eyes back up to his face. She vaguely clicked her tongue, a small snigger escaping her mouth. "And whose fault was that? Yours or…his?", she asked, her voice much lower than before.

"His", the Corporal smirked, dropping his glance briefly to the unadorned ring finger of Ziva's right hand, "He wasn't really the sociable type, you know. Liked to keep to himself, wouldn't go get a drink with the boys. He'd sit at the bar knocking back his beers to down a handful of peanuts. That's the kinda guy he was. _Me_…not so much." Now the smile persisted on his face, his eyes narrowing at her.

Ziva mirrored his smile, tilting her head a little to the side. "So, he was alone. You never saw him talk to anyone from your unit?"

"No. Well, I mean…yes…kinda. Corporal Kent", he said suddenly, "They weren't exactly…_mingling_ on base, you know, but I saw them come into the bar together a couple times, talking… Seemed like they knew what to talk to each other about. You know what I mean?"

"Yes", Ziva answered sweetly, lowering her gaze to type into the PDA. "Corporal _Andrew_ Kent?", she checked, receiving his affirmative nod.

"Kent kinda was like Rivers, you know. Nobody actually knew nothing about those two."

"Well, thank you, Corporal Runyon", Ziva asserted, a small smile playing on her lips.

"My pleasure. Sure wanna be part of more NCIS investigations if all Agents are as beautiful as you", he said in a lower tone, taking a step towards her, "Come to think of it, you don't happen to have a card or a number where I can contact you? You know… In case I remember something about Sergeant Rivers or- or...Kent." A smirk replaced his persistent smile.

Ziva tilted her head upwards, a knowing grin brightening her features. She winked at him and beckoned him down, closer to her. He leant down a little, so that she could speak into his ear, her voice soft as a whisper, "My boyfriend is actually away on assignment in Europe."

She turned back to face him, a faint _"Ha"_ trickling from her lips when she found him winking at her. "But you know", she searched his face, eventually resting her eyes directly in his, "He is not the one you should be afraid of. Right now I could kill you fourteen different ways before you could even bat another one of your eyelashes at me."

She couldn't help but chuckle indistinctly upon the grave look of horror that crept onto his face. She pulled her head slightly back, her smile gone and instead replaced by a look of wicked sincerity in her dark eyes. "So, if you ever so much as _think…_about hitting on me again, rest assured… I will hit you first", she declared evenly, patting his cheek.

Granted, she wasn't married to Tony and she probably never would marry him, but that didn't matter. The thought of cheating on him never even crossed her mind. She wouldn't throw away the life she had built with him, no matter if it was a patchwork kind of life they shared. No kiss, no sexual fantasy, no adventurous fling was worth the cost. She had sworn her trust that day in the men's room - after Somalia. And she had meant it, from that day on, she had meant it. She trusted the man she loved and she would never abuse the trust he had put into her and her loyalty to their life together. She had spent a lifetime with the meaningless, at least most of the time. She had slept with men for the job, she had fallen in love with men for the job, she had been betrayed by men for the job and she had found closure long ago. Sexual tension and feeling desirable were nice attributes to play with - to a certain degree. However, as far as Ziva was concerned, she didn't want any other man. She wanted Tony and she had Tony.

When Gibbs turned around after hanging up on his conversation with Ducky, he saw Ziva walking away stridently from a very dumbfounded looking Corporal. A knowing smirk appeared on his face. Ziva had always had a way of leaving people overcome - one way or another. As she came to stand in front of him, the smile still apparent on his face, she decided to ignore it. Instead, she raised her eyebrows questioningly. She had seen him talk into his cell and if somebody had deemed anything important enough to interrupt one of Gibbs' interrogations with it - no matter how outlandish those interrogations appeared, Rule #22 would usually stand - she certainly wanted to know what was going on.

"Ducky called", Gibbs filled in plainly, "He thinks somebody might have punched the Sergeant in the face."

"I can relate to that sentiment", Ziva deadpanned, briefly glancing back to where Corporal Runyon was recovering from Ziva's rebuttal by way of yelling at Junior Marines passing him by.

Gibbs tried to hide his smile. "Get McGee to pick you up and check out bars in the area of where Rivers lived. He must've gotten into a fight. Whoever whacked him must have seen him too. Apparently the cut was new enough."

"And a bar could be the only setting for a fight, yes?", Ziva inquired, her voice laced with traces of disbelief.

Gibbs rolled his eyes, "They call 'em bar brawls for a reason, Ziva."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

_Around half past five_ in the evening the bullpen was almost perfectly unoccupied. Gibbs had been sorting through case files and his thoughts on the case when Ducky had entered to voice his opinion on what had happened down in the Autopsy Room that afternoon with Palmer. As usual, Gibbs had kept his own opinion down to expressions and small flickering motions, but Ducky knew his views were being registered and pondered no matter what. He knew Gibbs long enough to know that. That's why he also knew that Gibbs, even if he would never let it show, took change harder than anybody else.

Reactions to change were among the most fickle to uncover and pinpoint - even for a trained psychological observer like Ducky. Granted, Abby made a habit of emphasizing her hardship, her adverseness to any kind of change at full volume. McGee, who liked to know his place in a group and who felt secure in an everyday-routine of strongly appointed positions, would revert to insecurities in matters of his expertise, trying to fathom the extent of change to his immediate surroundings. Ziva, almost as hard to read as Gibbs, had learned to hide her feelings, but small glances, absent remarks or distant looks would give her away to the ones who cared to read the signs. Ducky had read all of the signs, all of their signs. When it came to Gibbs, however, he just knew from experience that Gibbs simply didn't take well to the disbanding of the team he had built so meticulously, the team that had become a family to all of them. He had lost one family too many already to react callously. First, Ducky himself had retired, handing over the torch to Palmer - the former mentor-apprentice-dyad became a one-man-show. Gibbs had worked with Ducky since his rookie days at NCIS, NCIS without Ducky he didn't know. Then Tony had left to be reassigned - and _that_ really had changed the entire dynamic of the team. No, Gibbs would never let it show, but change affected him. It really affected him.

"I heard the prodigal son is set to return home", Ducky launched into the subject tentatively.

Gibbs, who had already re-buried his head in the papers scattered all over his desk, smiled knowingly and looked back up at the man who he knew could read him like a book. "Only for the holiday season, Duck."

"A return nonetheless. Ziva seems to be quite happy about it", Ducky assessed, a small smile mixing into his contemplative expression. He remembered how she had disclosed the news of Tony's two-month leave to him the other day and how he had felt the elevation in her voice. He knew she missed him - for a lot of different reasons.

Gibbs, however, kept staring at him relentlessly, every trace of good humor gone from his eyes and replaced by that distant resolve that always glazed over his look at one point or another in a Tony-related conversation nowadays. "Don't you think it is time you forgave him, Jethro? It _has_ been two years, you know", Ducky inquired, creasing his forehead.

"I know how long it's been", Gibbs retorted simply.

"The boy did have a valid point, now didn't he?", Ducky kept at it, causing a crooked smile to flicker across Gibbs' face.

Suddenly the familiar ding of the elevator put an end to their exchange. Ducky mumbled something that sounded very much like '_Saved by the bell'_, but Gibbs chose to disregard his comment with a minor shake of the head. Instead, he concentrated on his two agents returning to the bullpen. They looked quite a bit worn out.

"Found one, boss", was McGee's only comment upon entering. It was enough for Gibbs to get up from behind his desk, waiting for McGee and Ziva to put away their backpacks before they came to stand in front of him. Gibbs was eyeing them expectantly.

"We found a bar only a few blocks down from Rivers' apartment", McGee elaborated, "Barman says Rivers was there with a friend. They stayed mostly by themselves, getting pretty drunk."

"It appears Rivers may have vomited on another guest…who then took a swing at the Sergeant's jaw", Ziva went on.

"Anacatharsis induced by mixing alcoholic beverages with the Methadone residues in his body. No wonder the poor man threw up", Ducky asserted quickly.

"The bar had no video footage, but we got the barman's and a couple patrons' descriptions."

"And they match both Sergeant Rivers' and Corporal Kent's."

"Boss, for all we know Kent could be that deleted number on Rivers' phone records", McGee inserted.

"Good, bring him in", Gibbs stated finally and was immediately met by Ziva's disbelieving stare. "Tomorrow", he added, smirking at her vaguely, "You didn't let me finish, Ziva."

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

When she had finally finished her report and gotten into her car, however, Ziva's heart had sunk right down to the foot pedals. It was too late in the evening to go home, get David and embark on their promised trip to the mall. She knew the upcoming days wouldn't prove to be any less hectic and she was undoubtedly facing another week of tireless investigation and coming home either in time to say goodnight to her children or too late for their bedtime, all three of them having to make due with a simple goodnight-phone call.

She had eventually resolved to take the detour to the mall and get the present anyway. The neatly wrapped package clasped beneath one arm, her backpack slung over her shoulder and clad in a thick coat, she entered the apartment at _a quarter past seven_ in the evening - pretty much in time for Tali's bedtime. To that effect the apartment lay in utter silence except for quiet mumbling upstairs. Ziva crept into the living room, discarding her things by the door. She took the package and stowed it away in one of the living room cupboards, knowing perfectly well that there was no use showing it off or getting approval right now.

Then she silently made her way upstairs. When she passed the closed door of David's room her heart sank again. Sarah's and Tali's voices were carried out into the hall from the little girl's room and by the sound of it they were still discussing which book best to read tonight. Ziva smiled. When they were working cases Ziva fairly often came home too late for bedtime. She knew, however, that Tali would try stalling in hopes Ziva would return in time for her bedtime story anyway. In her three-year-old opinion her mommy was much more fun to read stories with, because she would talk in funny voices and let her join in. Ziva ultimately decided to tuck Tali in first and then face her son's dire disappointment.

The door to Tali's room had been left slightly ajar. Ziva cautiously opened the door further, smiling when her daughter's face lightened up upon her entrance. "Mommy, you home!", she called out to her, immediately sitting up straight in bed and every trace of sleepiness wiped away.

Sarah was standing next to the bed with a collection of books in her arms, smiling at Ziva as well, "Just in time."

A small, appreciative smile flickered across Ziva's features before she sat down on her daughter's bed, engulfing the little girl in a bear hug. "Shalom, tateleh", she breathed into her ear.

After a moment of silence and after putting the books back where they belonged, Sarah thought it best to relay the last bit of information of their day, "David's been in his room since dinner. I told him about your call, though…" She trailed off.

"Thank you", Ziva forced another smile onto her face looking up from her daughter's embrace, "I got the present on my way home." She didn't know why she felt obliged to tell her children's nanny that particular piece of information, didn't know why she felt obliged to explain herself. She just did.

"But didn't David want to help you find a proper gift?", Sarah asked tentatively.

"It was never about the gift, Sarah", Ziva explain benevolently, a sad smile playing on her lips. Sarah nodded understandingly. Tali was still holding onto Ziva's hand. "Thank you very much for putting in another long day, work is just crazy at the moment."

"No problem, really. The kids were great all day", Sarah waved off, adding good-naturedly, "And David will come around in no time, don't worry."

That eventually conjured up an honest smile on Ziva's face. Sometimes, she thought, sometimes she just needed some sort of reassurance that she was getting it right somehow. She knew she was making mistakes, she knew no parent was perfect, but she didn't want to screw it up. She had been screwed up and over herself, she didn't want her own children to suffer the same ordeal. "Thank you", Ziva repeated, this time with added sincerity.

Sarah nodded. "I'll see myself out", she stopped Ziva from getting up, realizing that Ziva was needed more up here, "See you tomorrow, same time, same place. Goodnight you two." Sarah gave them one last smile and waved at Tali before she vanished behind the door.

Ziva tucked one of Tali's curls behind her ear. When she heard the front door open and shut, she said finally, "So, what book shall it be tonight?"

Tali's face erupted into a big grin. Without another word the little girl grabbed a book from the pile beside her bed and handed it to Ziva. Then she scooted over to make room for her mother. Ziva lay down on the bed next to her daughter, leaning against the headboard while Tali snuggled up close to her, clutching Shim tightly. Ziva put an arm around her daughter and brushed some wayward strands of hair away from her forehead.

When her mother didn't start reading right away, Tali rolled her eyes up to find Ziva gazing down at her lovingly. Tali lifted a chubby hand to Ziva's face, smiling a toothy smile. "Wuvs you, mommy", the little girl said.

"I love you too, tateleh", Ziva returned softly, leaning down to place a kiss onto the top of her daughter's head.

As if she had waited for exactly that kind of child-like approval, Ziva eventually got comfortable on her daughter's princess bad and opened the book, resuming the story where they had left off the night before. By the end of the chapter Tali had already fallen asleep, her head resting in Ziva's lap. Ziva closed the book and put it back onto the nightstand, switching on the night lamp in the process. She stroked Tali's hair absentmindedly, losing herself in the peaceful expression of her daughter's sleeping form for a moment. Then she gently shifted Tali fully onto her bed, making sure Shim was still in her grasp and the little girl wouldn't wake. She placed one last kiss goodnight onto her daughter's forehead before leaving the room.

In the hall her gaze immediately twirled to her right into the direction of her son's room. She didn't want to avoid anything for she was raising her children in the belief that issues needed to be talked about and resolved - not left to linger so that they would ultimately end up in a suicide mission in the Horn of Africa. Heaving a sigh, she braced herself and quietly knocked on his door. When no answer came she entered to find David sitting at his desk. He didn't look up or turn around.

Ziva took a step into the room, closing the door behind her. She didn't go any further, however, staying by the door and folding her hands in front of her. "Shalom, neshomeleh", she started carefully, a small smile dripping from her face.

She had expected him not to answer her. After all, her son was so much like Ziva's little sister Tali. Yes, she had given her daughter the name of her late sister, but David had positively inherited her sister's character, her posture, her compassion. She couldn't remember a time in her life when Tali had actually been mad at Ari or her and by God, she would have had more than enough reasons to. Getting mad or staying mad - that had been Ari's and Ziva's thing, not Tali's. Even Eli hadn't been too blind to notice the austere effect Tali's inner calm had had on both his son and eldest daughter. He had understood early on that Tali had been to Ziva and Ari what his wife had been to him: the last formidable link to a more empathetic reality that apparently could not have been. Tali's demise, as painful as it might have been, had eliminated that last tie for both Ari and Ziva - and had played right into Eli's cards. When Tali had died there had been nothing left, nothing. It had taken Ziva years to find some_thing_, some_body_ to live for again - maybe, maybe it had even taken a torture chamber in the Horn of Africa.

That's why Ziva was working so hard to preserve that magnificent quality inside her son, that last bit of her sister she had left. The Talia David Ziva had known as her baby sister had had to defend her very own compassion against the horrors, the deaths, the disillusionments they had faced during their childhood. Too much. Ziva now had a life where she could spare her children almost every aspect of it. Consequently, disappointing her son in spite of all that hit her even harder.

"Ani mitzta'eret, tateleh", Ziva confessed softly, "I'm so sorry."

It finally caused David to turn around in his chair and look at her. Ziva knew that if it hadn't been for his father's emerald eyes, she would be left staring into her late sister's sapphire orbs whenever he looked at her like that: understanding, devotedly understanding. "It's okay, I guess", he retorted plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

Ziva tilted her head and smiled at him. "I had to work late", she declared quietly, feeling the need to explain herself boiling inside of her once more.

"I know", he nodded, "It's not your fault." To some this exchange of atonement and absolution between a mother and her six-year-old son might have seemed strangely odd, but not to Ziva. Her son's emotional capacities continued to surprise her, yes, but in a good way.

She stepped closer to him and crouched down in front of his chair. "No, it is not my fault", she agreed with him, crossing her arms on top of his knees and looking up at him inquisitively, "But it is still not right to break a promise, tateleh."

"Yeah, but you couldn't keep your promise and that's not your fault", he reiterated, a vague question mark escorting his statement.

"Sometimes it is even better not to make a promise in the first place if you are not sure you can keep it", Ziva admitted, lifting a hand to caress his cheek.

"Did you know?", he asked expectantly.

"That I would not be able to keep my promise?", Ziva enquired and conceded upon his sincere nod, "I hoped I would be able to keep it."

"Then it's kinda okay, right?" He screwed his forehead up in wrinkles.

She smiled. "I still am very sorry", she whispered through her nod, "Can you forgive me?"

He nodded easily, "Sure."

"Todah", she leaned up to kiss his cheek, but she narrowed her eyes at him questioningly a second later, when she saw his forehead still set in curious wrinkles.

"Mommy?"

"What is it, tateleh?", she said gently, offering him a sweet smile despite the unease she felt creeping up her spine.

"Can you promise Sarah won't make her sucky lamb chops anymore for dinner?"

The sincerity of his expression elicited a chuckle to escape Ziva's lips. "Not good?", she lowered her voice to a cunning whisper.

David shook his head vigorously, "No, not good."

"Well, I promise you I will talk to her about her sucky lamb chops", Ziva assured him, furrowing her brows to maintain an aura of seriousness, "Anything else you need me to promise?"

"Can you promise to teach Tali to play cards? 'Cause she really doesn't get it when I s'plain it to her…", he sighed exasperatedly.

"Yes, definitely going to teach her how to play cards", Ziva smirked, her eyes regaining their lighthearted glow, "Anything else?"

He grinned impishly. "Promise me Santa will bring lotsa presents?"

"Now, that depends on _you _alone", Ziva tilted her head to the side, pursing her lips playfully, "But I promise you I will put in a good word for you. Is that good enough?"

"Okay", he sighed dramatically. His gaze momentarily slipped to the floor but when he perked up again she could see them glow with an idea, "Promise I don't have to go to bed just now?"

Ziva grinned mischievously, straightening back up. "Absolutely."

"Really?", David retorted eagerly, looking up at her with big, hopeful eyes.

"Of course", she nodded definitely, bending forward and scooping him up into her arms, "You will not have to go to bed _just now_… We will get you ready for bed _firs. __Then_ you will have to go to bed."

"Mom", he whined, "You're mean."

"Yes, the meanest", she confirmed, narrowing her eyes while a smile kept playing on her lips. She was already stepping out of his room and into the hall, already on her way to the bathroom with David safely positioned on her hip.

He grinned despite himself. After a moment of silence he perked up again, "Mommy?"

Ziva stopped right in front of the bathroom door, turning to look at her son. "Yes, tateleh?"

"Love you."

She kissed the tip of his nose, smiling, "I love you too."


	8. Forebodings tell me more

**My sincerest appreciation to my reviewers - **your input is immensely rewarding to me. Of course, one can never get enough reviews because, basically, it's you I write this story for. And because I know it's a little tiresome to hear all those writers on here pestering you for reviews, I would like to introduce a little idea to you:

**JUST** pick **ONE **thing (a line, a scene, an idea, a character's something, etc.) you like/don't like or that confuses/clarifies things for you and…maybe even…tell me…**WHY** you picked it. I would love to hear your thoughts! Thanks!

* * *

**Change of Policy: Q&A**

**Zivafan (): **Yes, I'm definitely going to relay the pre-story of Tony and Ziva and how they came to be (and why they're not married) - but in a later chapter. So, I'll have to ask for your patience :)

**Pipy889: **I made a very conscious decision not to include translations of the Hebrew "spoken" in here because, on the one hand, I think it kinda takes the feel (for lack of a better word) out of a piece of fiction to have an explanation beyond the dotted line. I really try to use only common phrases, try to convey tone of voice and reactions so that it remains almost self-explenatory. What is more, however, I want to evoke a certain feeling in the reader, a particular uncertainty that anyone would feel around people who talk in a language you cannot understand. Imagine Tony in a household where three out of four are able to communicate in a language he cannot understand. It's a special kind of (involuntary) exclusion that will be addressed in later chapters. But thank you for bringing it up and giving me a chance to explain - I'm not deliberately excluding any of you, at least not maliciously so ;)

* * *

**Chap 8 Forebodings tell me more…**

_Thursday, November 7th 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

The elevator doors opened. Ziva was completely lost in thought and not looking up as she tried to enter the squadroom. When solid grey material turned up in the corner of her eye, however, she instinctively stopped hard in her tracks. Lifting her gaze, her eyes fell on Gibbs, clad in a grey jacket, standing in front of her utterly unperturbed as he took a sip of his morning coffee. His look was indiscernible.

"I am not late", Ziva defended quickly, the clock still giving her _two more minutes to eight o'clock_ in the morning.

"Yet", Gibbs assessed, "Abby and McGee _de_…crypted that chip thing."

"Yes?", Ziva raised her eyebrows, waiting for that last bit of auxiliary information that would help her make sense of his statement.

Gibbs, however, simply took another sip of his coffee and stepped forward, which likewise caused Ziva to take a few steps backwards, staring disbelievingly at her boss of almost fifteen years . Their little _actio-reactio-_game that appeared like a rather clumsily executed, Foxtrot-like dance routine to many on-looking agents behind them ended inside the elevator. Eventually, Ziva was back to where she had been only five minutes before. Gibbs pushed the penultimate button without turning around, his eyes still dead-set on Ziva, who similarly fixed her eyes determinedly on the elevator door.

Gibbs couldn't help but notice the soft shades beneath her eyes. Ziva, who he knew didn't generally live on a lot of sleep and who had been trained to focus her energy on the essentials, rarely showed signs of exhaustion. Then again, he knew those signs weren't necessarily exhaustion but rather mental preoccupation. Something was bothering her. When she still refused to look at him, he turned around and flicked the emergency switch. Immediately the lights around them dissipated and they jerked to a halt. Both of her hands clutching the strap of her backpack, Ziva let out a quiet yet exasperated grunt.

Gibbs took another step towards her. "You look like hell", he stated plainly.

"Well, thank you", she huffed, seizing him with a brief glare.

Gibbs didn't retreat, however, and kept piercing holes into the side of her face with his relentless stare. "Tell me, Ziva", he whispered, his voice adopting a tone of sincere gentleness.

She pressed her lips together and straightened up, willing herself not to say another word. She had been trained to keep silent, she had endured beatings, poisonings, torture without opening her mouth just once and yet her defensive walls were crumbling to pieces beneath Gibbs' incessant stare. She didn't know what it was inside his eyes that had caused her to cave each and every time since their first encounter. Her own father had never had that power over her, Eli had never been able to read her. Only loyalty and obedience had tied her to her father, the director of Mossad. As she finally turned to face Gibbs, however, it was loyalty alright that guided her - but there were no traces of submission but the sincere wish to let him know, to share.

"It is silly, really", she scoffed and shook her head, her eyes quickly dropping to the floor again.

"Not by the looks of it."

She lifted her gaze back up. His eyebrows were raised in the slightest. "Tali is about to get sick", she explained almost bashfully.

"About to? As in she isn't yet?", he inquired and a small smile flickered across her face when she picked up on those slight, imminent traces of worry emanating from his eyes.

"I know my own child, Gibbs", Ziva affirmed, nodding her head, "She was restless all night, waking up every few hours, whining. I know the signs. The flu has been going around for some time now. I almost expected her to catch it one of these days."

Gibbs vividly remembered the last time David or Tali had been sick. In fact, they had both caught the chickenpox a few months ago. Ziva had ended up spending a full week at home taking care of them while Gibbs and McGee had been left to investigate the death of a high ranking Navy official with a patchwork-team. The two stand-ins, however, had not only lacked Ziva's investigative experience but had driven Gibbs positively nuts as well. It had taken them incrementally longer to solve the case. The kids always came first, he completely understood that. But in the middle of a case as bizarre and complex as their current one was turning out to be, he didn't even want to think about having to do without Ziva. What was more, however, he knew how attached she became to cases, to the notion of doing a victim justice. The thought of having to step back from the case she was devoting herself to so thoroughly couldn't have been an easy one either.

"You do what you can, Ziva", Gibbs asserted calmly, his eyes bearing the heaviness of experience.

"I should have-"

"You do what you can", he reiterated, a little more emphasis behind his words this time, "Beating yourself up doesn't do _anyone_ a favor."

Unblinking, she eventually held his insistent stare. Gibbs nodded his head vaguely and brought the elevator back to life with a flick of his finger. Ziva stole a small glance at him standing beside her, an epitome of calm and consideration, and a small smile, somewhat invisibly appreciative, formed on her lips for a moment. He caught her smile in the corner of his eye and when the doors opened and he exited the elevator ahead of her, a faint smile of return flickered across his face as well. When they entered Abby's lab they found the forensic scientist crouching in front of McGee, who had his back turned towards them and arched slightly forward. Gibbs and Ziva came to an abrupt halt only inches from the doorway, both raising a pair of eyebrows in inquisitive surprise.

"Feeling right at home, are we?", Gibbs deadpanned, a cunning edge in his voice.

McGee visibly jumped at the voice of his boss, trying to wriggle away but something was holding him back. Abby immediately stepped aside, facing the two new arrivals on the scene with a beaming smile on her face. "This is _so_ not what it looks like", she exclaimed, a trace of nervousness running through her statement.

"It looks like McGee got his tie…_caught_ in something", Ziva mused, craning her neck to get a better look.

"Well, then it's exactly what it looks like", Abby assessed evenly, tilting her head to the side, "He actually got his tie caught in a typewriter…his _own _typewriter. No typewriter infidelities going on around here."

Indefinite smirks formed on both Ziva's and Gibbs' lips, smiles they both tried to hide, both rather unsuccessfully. While Gibbs stepped over to the right, Ziva followed Abby's enthusiastic beckoning and inspected McGee's current mishap from the other side. "Thank God, you're not too eager", McGee scoffed, lifting his eyes bashfully to the ceiling.

Ziva's eyes widened as she tried to bite back her laugh. "How…?", were the only words she could press out.

McGee let out a frustrated grunt. "Don't ask."

"Why don't you just slip your head out-"

"He wants to save the tie", Abby retorted, her eyes narrowing in mock-seriousness.

"This is a brand-new tie. Australian silk. It cost a fortune", McGee whined, trying to glare at the amused Goth but having trouble with turning his head far enough to do so.

"And how do you plan on getting out of your…_situation_ now, McGee?", Ziva inquired, grinning mischievously.

"I've been trying to ease it out of there, but somehow that thing got stuck", Abby explained, trying less and less hard to hide her obvious amusement.

"But you should be used to working with typewriters, yes?", Ziva asked and stepped even closer, leaning against the desk and seizing McGee with her narrowed eyes, "It is your MO for writing those novels of yours…is it not?"

"Oh, come on Ziva! You can't still be holding a grudge for that series, can you?", McGee moaned aggravatedly, trying to get further away from her by taking a step back as far as his tie would allow him, "After all, I _was _right about you and Tony, wasn't I?"

"Ugh, bad move", Abby whispered from somewhere beside him.

"That", Ziva smirked, moving a hand to the lever of the typewriter, "-is _not_…the point, Tim."

McGee's eyes widened in fear before he closed them tightly, waiting to be pulled farther in by a flick of Ziva's hand. When nothing came, however, no pull at his throat or other physical harm inflicted on his body, McGee cautiously opened his eyes again a few aggravating moments later. He squinted and immediately looked to his left where Ziva stood, still grinning at him, and he could see Abby mimicking her expression in the corner of his eye. When he looked down at the typewriter, however, he found the tip of his tie still caught in the platen - just that the rest of himself wasn't attached to it anymore. What he did find, however, were scissors, couched between him and the object of his misery. Following the hand holding the scissors, which had simply cut his tie in half and him free, his eyes fell on Gibbs standing on his right and staring at him.

"Problem solved", Gibbs assessed, putting the scissors down on the desk.

"Thanks boss, I think…", McGee answered quietly and somewhat timidly, even though a small part inside of him started mourning in view of that big red, three-digit figure on his bank account that had ultimately been for naught.

"Now don't tell me you were playing tag when elf lord tagged his tie to the typewriter", Gibbs quipped, giving one of his best involuntary Tony-impressions as of late and looking past McGee's vague attempts to smooth down the remnants of his tie at Abby.

"No, actually, we were being pretty brilliant, if I may say so myself", Abby perked up, already turning towards her computer.

McGee looked up to find Gibbs glaring at him. "We finally decrypted the content of the chip Ducky found in the eyeball", the younger agent declared, clearing his throat, "And I'm putting it on screen as we speak, boss."

Gibbs nodded and walked around the desk to join Ziva in front of the plasma screen, while McGee shot his typewriter one last contemptuous look before he shoved it aside and started typing into his computer as well. Immediately, a sequence of letters materialized onscreen. Ziva squinted her eyes at it, as did Gibbs beside her. She may have been able to speak nine different languages, but that combination of letters made sense in virtually none of them.

"I thought you said you decrypted it?", she said.

"We did. That's it. That gibberish is all we found embedded into that chip", McGee explained.

"But…", Abby cut in, a proud grin adorning her face, and typed something into her keyboard that eventually morphed the letters on the screen into an eight-digit number, "Because McGee's a genius…and a bit weird…kinda like that Doogy Houser kid only with a better haircut…we cracked the gibberish."

"It's actually quite simple", McGee elaborated quickly, conjuring up a simplified keyboard arrangement onscreen, "You're looking at a de facto standard layout of keys for English-language typewriters. The trick is to shift the rows of the keyboard in parallel." With a savvy click of his finger the rows followed his command, each row shifting upward, so that each subjacent row took the place of the overlying one while the numerative row skipped to the bottom of the four-rowed arrangement.

"Whoever wrote this, simply typed letters instead of numbers according to the place each letter takes up when shifted to the numerative row", Abby inserted, replacing each letter with the corresponding digit, thus reproducing the number they had seen a moment earlier.

Ziva turned around to look at McGee, "How…?"

"Don't ask", McGee shot back immediately, but caved under Ziva's persistent stare, "It's one of the oldest tricks, probably dating back to when the first typewriters were cued for mass-production. When my dad was stationed in Alameda, on-base communication for low-secret content was generally issued via this type of encoding…and I might've figured it out at some point…or another."

Ziva smiled, unable to shake the image of little, teenaged Timothy McGee hacking into his new typewriter and deciphering his father's desk files. Then something struck her. "If _you_ still know how to do this from your days in Alameda, the person we are looking for might have been stationed there as well while this practice was still in use, yes?"

"Possible, but this was kinda like standard rookie procedure for several naval and army bases all over the country", Abby interjected quickly, "That would literally make thousands upon thousands of military personnel. Nothing to actually go on because we still got nothing to narrow down the search with."

"Coordinates?", Gibbs inquired, turning to face them.

"Eight-digit figure, does suggest itself, doesn't it?", Abby smiled, "The first few combinations we tried actually led to places all over the world, none of them really making any sense. I mean, our ripper's a whack job, I'll give you that, but not even our whack job ripper would hide another body part in a cozy little trench in the middle of the Pacific, right? Problem was, we didn't really know what to make of the Z in the initial code. It would have remained a letter even in the translation and could have stood for a gap or a zero or a numeral one, because older version typewriters didn't actually have separate keys for zero and one."

"_But_…then I remembered my grandfather's old typewriter, the one I'm still using from time to time to…uh…free-write. He brought it back from his deployment in Germany during the Second World War", McGee went at it again, returning to the previous keyboard arrangement, "English-language typewriters use the QWERTY layout while German-language ones use QWERTZ."

On the plasma the Y blinked for a few seconds before detonating. Gibbs and Ziva twirled around immediately, both raising their eyebrows at a grinning Abby who was obviously very proud of her little animation. When the anime-smoke dissipated onscreen, the Y had turned into a Z.

"The coordinates we pulled with that key are the only ones that would make actual sense seeing as they're at least depicting a piece of land", McGee continued, somewhat degradedly, "But we already checked and they lead to a Columbian restaurant in Annapolis."

The sudden mood shift in his Senior Field Agent caused Gibbs to turn around and narrow his eyes at him. "So?" He vaguely tilted his head back.

"Boss, that can't be right. With what we have so far it's highly improbable-"

"McGee, has anything about this case gone according to probabilities so far?", Gibbs dared him, taking a step towards the desk.

"Well, not exactly."

"Exactly", Gibbs growled.

"Then you won't like what I've found either", Abby perked up again, shoving her face into Gibbs' line of vision and raising a timid hand.

"DNA off the eyeball?"

"Absolute, blatant, boldfaced, yearning-", Abby exclaimed, emphasizing each first letter and grinning along to her little _Abby_-wordplay, "No. There was no trace of human tissue left on it that I would have been able to use for a DNA sample. Whoever took that eyeball out was totally meticulous."

"And probably had enough forensic and medical knowledge to do it too", McGee inserted quickly.

"Not necessarily", Ziva cut in decidedly, stepping around the desk to look at her partner and the forensic specialist, "At Mossad knowing how and from what DNA samples can be generated is part of basic training, for example. It can be learned."

McGee and Abby looked at her, swaying between looks of awe and astonishment. Gibbs let a smirk drip from his face before he turned up at Ziva's side, demanding, "McGee, Ziva, Annapolis. Go check out that restaurant."

Both agents nodded, already on their way out but McGee stopped in the doorway and turned back around to Gibbs, who was raising his eyebrows expectantly. "Boss, Corporal Kent-", he started.

Gibbs cut him off, "Go, McGee, I'll interrogate him."

"No, boss", McGee answered delicately, "We…uh…can't find him either."

* * *

**20 Murray Avenue - Annapolis, Maryland**

After a one and a half hour long drive that could have effectively taken only forty to fifty minutes if McGee hadn't been too scared to let Ziva drive, they stepped out of their car. Seeing as Ziva had adopted a much calmer, anticipatory and safer driving style whenever the kids were in the car, she was rather viciously trying to get it out of her system when driving a car they weren't in. They had, however, spent almost all the way from D.C. to Annapolis discussing this matter of, respectively, minor intimidation and major irritation. So, in an attempt to change the subject, McGee tried changing the subject.

"Did you see that look on Gibbs' face?", he asked vaguely, looking around.

Ziva pointed at a Columbian restaurant across the street. "The same look he has had all week", Ziva assessed.

"Yeah, this case really is getting to him."

"He is not the only one", Ziva said under her breath but loud enough for McGee to hear. He didn't feel any different, nodding as he held open the door for her.

A complicated case like their current one didn't only keep Ziva from her kids even longer than usual, but also bore greater risks than usual. She did love her job, and she was very well aware of the risks she was taking and that it was - John Q. Publicly speaking - an unusually high risk. Then again, good ole John Q. could have stepped down from the curb and gotten run over by a bus, so odds were entirely on her side there. Complex cases were, however, demanding more concentration and energy, concentration and energy Ziva did not want to withdraw from her children. That double effort was - she sometimes and deep down had to admit to herself - wearing her a little thin in times like these. And while she was usually rather laid-back about her parenting, she tended to over-think in times like these as well.

The restaurant was almost empty, only two of the cubicles lined up on the far wall were actually occupied. Their mumbling conversations were accompanied by soft music from stereos in each corner. The air was a bit murky, smoke was covering the ceiling. An older man stood behind the bar drying glasses with a rug when they entered. When he saw them looking around, adeptly assessing the situation, he went over to them, rug thrown over his shoulder, and smiled.

"Table for two?

"No, thank you", Ziva declined benevolently, shooting him a swift smile.

"Agents McGee and David, NCIS", McGee introduced them, showing the man his ID and badge, "We're here in the course of a federal investigation."

"I did nothing wrong", the man defended immediately, his voice quietly unnerved, "I'm a legal immigrant, been for thirty years. No drugs. No money. No crime."

McGee was slightly taken aback. "We weren't insinuating-"

"There is no need for you to worry, Sir", Ziva reassured him calmly, her eyes sincere, "This is not about you. We have reason to believe that you restaurant was used by someone else to plant evidence for us to find…unbeknownst to you."

"We would like to ask your permission to search your restaurant", McGee asked delicately, trying to soothe the man's worries.

The man nodded vaguely. "Okay."

At the same moment Ziva's cell started ringing. She took it out of her pocket, glanced at the display and held it up for McGee to look at the ID as well. _Home calling. _He nodded, telling her that he would get the paper work done with the owner. Ziva stepped out of the restaurant and finally picked up.

"Hello, Ziva", Sarah's voice turned up on the other end.

"Hello", Ziva answered, voicing the first thought that came to her mind, "Is something wrong with Tali?"

"No, no, don't worry, she's fine. A little cranky maybe, but other than that...", Sarah chuckled lightly.

"Yes, well…"

"The reason I'm calling…", Sarah started plainly, but rephrased when she heard the cars passing Ziva, "Are you busy right now?"

"I am in Annapolis right now, following a lead", Ziva explained. Sarah knew that Ziva was part of the _Major Case Response Team_ at NCIS and that Ziva was an Israeli native, but her insight into Ziva's past and present - or Tony's, for that matter, who she had only met very briefly a few times - ended with the fact they were carrying a gun and a badge. In Ziva's eyes there was no need for the nanny to know she was a former assassin in an internationally operating elite squad. "I probably will not be back in D.C. until later in the afternoon. Why?"

"Oh…well… Then it- it doesn't matter. Just curious", Sarah eluded quickly.

"Sarah, what is the matter?"

"It's nothing, really. It's just… My sister's flying in today because of her birthday next week and she asked me to come pick her up from the airport-"

"And you thought I could get off early enough to pick up David", Ziva realized, a faint sigh escaping her lips.

"Nah, it's okay. It doesn't matter, really", Sarah waved it off, her good-natured smile quite audible, "I can get somebody else to-"

"Yes, it does matter, Sarah. It does. If I had been in D.C., I would have…"

"Don't worry 'bout it. That's your job and this is mine. It's fine, really."

"Sarah…" Sometimes she thought they really weren't paying her enough. They all had to deal, one way or another. She just hoped Sarah wouldn't call it quits one of these days, she sometimes was too good a nanny to be true.

"But here's someone who _really_ wants to talk to you", Sarah exclaimed enthusiastically.

Ziva could hear her crouch down, the rustling of her clothes and then, "Mommy!" Tali's yell lacked a bit of its usual vigor, but it still caused Ziva's eardrums to quiver with delight.

"Shalom, tateleh", Ziva smiled.

"'atcha doin', mommy?"

"Mommy is working, tateleh", Ziva explained softly, turning back towards the restaurant so that the sound of traffic wouldn't disrupt their exchange, "What are _you_ doing?"

"Me an' Sarah jus' eated lunch. Sarah's showin' me how da play cards now, 'cause Deed's no good at s'plainin'", Tali rattled off and Ziva sighed an inward sigh at the last part of the sentence, "Mommy, you know wha' Annie said d'day?"

"What did Annie say?", Ziva asked overdramatically. If she had learned one thing from living with a man like Tony and a daughter like Tali, it was that little things mattered greatly. Tali's world, of course, only consisted of highly significant drama and through-the-roof delight in an endless sprint between both extremes, but so did Tony's more often than not.

"Annie said- She said when mommies and daddies go away d'ay don' like us no more", Tali elaborated gravely, "An' I said it's no true, 'cause you always say daddy wuvs us really much an' he's away too."

Ziva briefly wondered how a matter of such fundamental importance could be discussed in the most trivial of settings. Then again, she had realized that children were much more observant, much more alert to the important issues in their lives than most adults. Sometimes she would catch herself eavesdropping on an exchange between David and Tali and, even though they mostly ended with them accusing each other unanimously of not understanding, Ziva was amazed by the gravity of their topics and how they tried making sense of it.

"Then I didn' play wiw her no more", Tali declared emphatically.

"Tali, did Annie's mommy or daddy go away?", Ziva inquired cautiously.

"Uhuuu", Tali affirmed after a moment of consideration.

"All mommies and daddies are different, tateleh", Ziva explained, trying to phrase this most complicated of matters for her three-year-old to understand, "But I am positive your daddy loves you very much…even though he is away for a little while."

Ziva could practically hear the little girl mull her words over in her three-year-old mind. Then she perked up again, her voice more solemn than at the beginning of their conversation, "Be home soon?"

"I do not know, neshomeleh, but I hope so", Ziva answered truthfully.

"Oh…'kay…", she retorted slowly, "Wuvs you, mommy."

"Ani ohevet otcha, tateleh." Tali hung up first, always abrupt in her ending a conversation. Ziva smiled despite herself. Somehow Tali defending Tony's love and devotion to his family in spite of him spending most of the year on the other side of the Atlantic and despite their worries about Tali's take on their family's situation, was definitely lifting her spirits.

Back inside the restaurant the owner did allow them to turn his property upside down in search for- well, they didn't actually know what they were searching for exactly. Another body part, that was the best guess they had. In the pit of their stomachs they both dreaded finding it, though, as much as they wanted to get on with their case. Albeit having calmed down, the owner's statement wasn't helpful either. Business was definitely slower in the busy pre-Christmas shopping-season, but he still had enough customers each day and nobody had exceptionally attracted his attention in the past week. Hence they spent almost all afternoon rummaging around just so that in the end they were practically as far as at the outset.

"I told Gibbs the coordinates were no good, but no-", McGee complained.

Ziva interrupted him, "McGee, what is that?" She was pointing at an urn that was standing in the small anteroom between the first and the second entrance. The urn was about 4'9'' with a three-inch opening in the lid at the top.

The owner turned up suddenly behind McGee and jumped in, startling the Senior Field Agent, "This is our wish-box. Guests can write their wishes and greetings down on paper and throw them in for us to read."

Ziva confirmed that quickly with a glance at the paper pad and pencil lying on a small table next to the urn. "The slit is quite big, is it not?", she mused, turning around to face her partner.

"Big enough for several body parts", he retorted, a vague shudder running down his spine.

Ziva turned back to the owner, "How often do you open it?"

"Once a month."

"Open now."

The owner fiddled with his keys until he found the right one for the padlock on the side of the urn. He took it off and stepped aside to make room for Ziva. She carefully lifted the lid off the urn, taking a quick peek inside to make sure she wasn't releasing something dangerous rather than merely disgusting. Scanning the content of the urn she briefly looked up into McGee's expectantly widened eyes. Inside the urn there were some thirty pieces of paper and-

"Evidence bag", Ziva demanded bluntly, while putting the lid down on the floor and slipping on a new pair of latex gloves.

McGee turned around to fetch the bag while Ziva bent over and reached into the urn. When their eyes fell onto their newest find, the owner's face contorted in repulsion and shock while McGee pursed his lips and tried to smile awkwardly.

Dropping it into the bag, Ziva deadpanned, "McGee, I think we might just have found ourselves an _ear_ to go with our hand and eyeball."

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva had eventually made it home _around five in the afternoon_, relieving Sarah to go and welcome home her older sister. Even though it would have been early enough to start on dinner, Ziva had ultimately decided they were having take-out. Finding body parts wasn't exactly setting the mood for a bout of cooking. Afterwards they had settled down on the couch for a movie, Ziva in the middle with an arm around each child on either side of her. Tali had fallen asleep halfway through, but Ziva hadn't bothered to take her upstairs just then, she had looked too peaceful and the ongoing movie hadn't exactly appeared to disturb her slumber. David had practically been asleep as well when she had returned to his room to say goodnight after she had tucked Tali in.

Now Ziva was watching TV, silently. It had been an hour since bedtime. Usually, she would be in her room reading, but she couldn't bring herself to. She craved meaningless entertainment, just wanting to clear her head a bit - or _snap herself out of her head space_. A reminiscent smile settled on her face. However, even though she was caught up in sweet, blissful nothingness, the soft footsteps on the staircase behind her didn't go unnoticed by her fine sensoring skills. The steps were a bit heavier than she had expected. So, it wasn't Tali who had woken up - it was David. Suddenly the movement stopped. David was suddenly very unsure of what he was doing. When he had woken up, all he could think about was his mommy and when she wasn't in her bedroom he had come down. But what was he doing? What was he hoping to get, to find?

As if sensing his uneasiness, Ziva chose that moment to turn around so she could get a better look at her son. "Come here, tateleh", she coaxed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch. He hesitated, but she gave him a reassuring smile and he shuffled over, letting her take his hand in hers and guide him around the couch, so that he was standing in front of her. His small form in the darkness of the room was only highlighted by the flickers of light the TV was bequeathing them with. The calm, sweet smile was still playing on her lips while she held his hand in hers, slightly stroking its back with her thumb. She could feel the remnants of sweat in his palm. He still didn't look quite convinced that this was where he was supposed to be.

"Did you have a bad dream, yes?", she asked him evenly, her brows furrowing almost undetectably.

He just nodded his head and sniffled a little, which caused him to inhale suddenly with an almost fearful expression on his face. Ziva's heart went out to her six-year-old who was always working so hard on keeping up his uncanny act of bravery. "Do you want mommy to make it better?", she continued gingerly.

He just looked at her, his eyes pleading for the warmth and security of her embrace but something was holding him back and she didn't know what it was. She left him a few more seconds to ponder before she lifted her other hand to his face and stoked his light brown hair that was sticking out into all directions. She found it to be a little moist with sweat. She let her hand linger on the side of his face, her thumb softly stroking his temple. She could feel him move a little into her touch.

"What is it, tateleh?" She could always sense when something was wrong with her children. One could call it a mother's intuition, but Ziva would never understand how anybody would not be able to detect the conflict and tremor behind her little son's emerald eyes.

"I didn't cry", he croaked hoarsely, telling her just the opposite with the mere sound of his little voice.

She slid forward to the edge of the couch and pulled David a little towards her, so that he was standing between her knees. She looked at him intently, searching his eyes for the source of this unfamiliar resilience against her comfort and care. Of course, David made a habit of wanting to seem braver than he was, but usually she could shrug it off as a very manly attitude - an attitude mostly showing around the men in his surroundings. Usually, he couldn't resist his own need of having his mother comfort him. Especially when they were alone in the sanctuary of their home he would not deny himself the hugs and kisses.

"But it is okay to cry", she explained gently, adding an assuring smile.

"Daddy said big- big boys don't cry", he sniveled, trying not to let the tears flow now that he was looking into his mother's dark eyes, "And I'm a big boy."

Ziva suddenly realized that Tony must have let a comment like that slip in a previous phone conversation with their son. It surprised her. It wasn't actually something Tony would say, not to David anyway. Then again, however, being a father over the phone was significantly dissimilar from being a father standing in front of your six-year-old who sounded like he was about to cry. Unable to deal with a crying son from afar, a hasty comment like that sounded more plausible - no less momentous, though.

"Yes, that you are, bachur", she assured him, cupping his chin with her left hand and slightly squeezing it. He tried to suppress a small smile at the squeezing of his chin. "You are my big boy", she added, smiling even broader at him, "But that does not mean that you cannot cry."

"Does too", he shot back, shaking his head and thus her hand from his face

"Does not", she returned firmly, "Whenever you are scared or happy you can cry all you need." He opened his mouth to protest, but Ziva quickly put a finger on his lips, smiling. "It is not a sign of weakness, you know", she pressed on, her eyes never leaving his, "It is a sign of strength."

Hearing this his brow furrowed in just the same manner hers had just minutes before. She couldn't help but smirk inwardly at the rather obvious likeness they shared. "How?", he asked against her finger, intrigued by this new perspective.

"Because it takes a very strong person to show their feelings."

"But daddy never cries-", he started but added upon second thought a more profound argument, "-and you never cry eithers."

"Oh yes, I do", Ziva nodded, the smile never leaving her face, "When I am scared, I cry…and so does your father."

Her son laughed softly at this and despite feeling elevated by his changing demeanor, she couldn't help but look puzzled. He picked up on her questioningly narrowed eyes and explained simply, "You're never scared, mommy."

Ziva could only smile more at her son's innocence. But then again, it was the way she had chosen to go through life: never letting anyone know, never letting anyone see. Granted, there were only a few instances when she would actually feel scared, but ever since having children the list of scary things had easily doubled. Suddenly, some cars swerving down in the street made David jump. The slight traces of a smile were quickly erased again and his features settled back in stone. He seemed close to tears when his eyes returned to his mother's gaze that had never faltered in its reassuring smile.

"Do you want mommy to hold you, tateleh?", she asked tenderly, taking his other hand in hers as well. He nodded his head, his dark green eyes wide with unknown terror. She lifted him gently into her lap where he quickly curled up into a ball and slung his arms around her middle.

"Shshsh", she soothed, wrapping her arms around him. She started rocking him, slightly humming the tune of the Hebrew lullaby her children knew so well. Ziva could feel him trembling and pulled him a little closer into her. "Everything will be alright", she cooed, her voice closer to breathing than to color, "Bari veShalem." She lifted her hand from his face a little and smiled softly at where his head was still firmly pressed against her. He was smiling back at her. _Bari veShalem_ - safe and sound. She would never let anything or anyone harm her children and she had the means to do so as well.

"Was the dream very bad, yes?", she inquired softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded and gripped her middle a little tighter. She responded by linking her hands around his small body, allowing him to relax into the safety of her arms, "Do you want to tell me what it was about?"

He shook his head against her chest, his eyes telling her not to press the matter any further. And she didn't, giving him a brief nod and a thin-lined smile. David always opened up in his own time as long as he felt he had the freedom to dwell on his problems alone for a bit. "Ani ohevet otach, tateleh", she breathed and placed a kiss on top of his head. She resumed humming their lullaby while she watched him battling with sleep, his eyes closing again and again.

"Let us get you into bed, shall we?", she announced calmly upon noticing his eyes droop again, less and less time between opening and closing them telling her that he was silently losing his battle against exhaustion. It wasn't so much a question than a statement as she was already sitting up and putting her hands on his sides, but David tackled her back into the cushions of the couch.

"No, lemme stay!", he cried out, burying his head in her neck and gripping her even tighter.

She stopped for a second and listened carefully if his outburst had alerted Tali. As the unmistakable sound of small feet on wooden paneling didn't come, Ziva turned her full attention back to her son. "Al tedag, hakol beseder", she soothed gently, stroking circles on his back to calm him down, "Mommy is right here, tateleh."

She could feel the tension slowly leave his body and finally placed her hands back on his sides, giving him a second to realize that she was about to pull away. When he didn't fight back she felt it save to gently move him from his death grip on her upper body so that she could look into his eyes. "Nothing is going to happen to you", she stated firmly, tilting her head forward to lock with his doubtful eyes, "Do you believe me?" He nodded his head and she mirrored him with a bit more resolve. "Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?"

To her wonder her suggestion elicited a nod from him and he settled back into her arms, locking his hands around her neck and putting his head on her shoulder. She skillfully arranged the little boy in her lap. She leaned forward to turn off the TV and got up. Embraced by complete darkness, only the slight glimmer of streetlights and passing cars showering them with the sporadic ray of light, she made her way up the stairs and down the corridor to her room, David tightly holding onto her. Over by her bed she bent down and pulled the covers back to carefully place David on the side that Tony usually occupied if ever he was there. She tucked him in and placed a kiss on his forehead before climbing in next to him. He immediately turned towards her, the expectant glisten in his eyes distinctly visible in the darkness of her bedroom. She returned it with a smile and opened her arms for him to snuggle into. She put one arm around him to place his head on and with the other started smoothing back his hair from his face, watching him finally surrender to sleep.

Of her two children David was not often found in her bed during the night. While Tali would use every excuse in the mommy-book to spend the night in her mother's bed, David liked to be brought back into his own whenever a storm or dream or request had awoken him. Then again, Tali would quickly drift back to sleep as long as she could feel her mother beside her. David on the other hand, if for once his fears were even stronger than every fiber of bravery, would find only restless slumber, waking up repeatedly to reassure himself that his mother was still right next to him. That's why Ziva did not intend to go to sleep any time soon. If anything, she actually felt very content just having her son lie in her arms. Ever since the day she became a mother it had always amazed her how perfectly satisfying it could be to watch her children sleep. Maybe it was knowing that in their dreams they would be safe, that in their dreams nothing bad could ever happen to them. Nothing. That was the promise she had given her unborn son just a few days before his birth: She would do anything to keep her children safe, no matter what. And Ziva David had proven more than once in the past just how far she was willing to go.

Children needed to be protected, protected from harm they were not supposed to ever fully know about. _That_ Ziva had learned from her mother. Even though she had only had a mother for eight years of her life, Eliana David had let no day go by without adhering to that simple promise. It was a promise between mother and child that Ziva had always associated with her golden Magen David pendant. Ziva - the part of Ziva that had grown up at eight years old so as to take care of her little sister, the part of Ziva that had been drilled to become an efficiently functional killer, the part of Ziva that had seen human evil in more shapes and appearances than she would even dare admit to herself - had never forgotten what that pendant stood for. Nothing could have ripped apart her heart and spirits so thoroughly as Saleem ripping that pendant from around her neck so many years ago in Somalia. With that pendant he had ripped off memories that had been more dear to Ziva than her own life.

_Three_ - three memories, actually. The first one was of her mother, who had had three identical golden pendants made by a goldsmith in Tel Aviv and, while keeping one for herself, had fastened one around each of her two daughters' necks_. Ani ohevet otcha._ It had been like a whisper attached to it. The second memory was of that hot summer day in 2001 when nineteen-year-old Ziva had found her sister Tali's pendant within the rubble of the explosion where it had fallen off Tali's severed head. And the third memory was the memory of how Ziva had gotten the pendant Saleem had ripped off her neck eight years later, the memory of the day of Tali's funeral: Standing over her little sister's casket, Ziva had taken off her own pendant and had carefully wrapped it around Tali's cold hand while replacing it with Tali's pendant around her neck.

Those memories, tied to that one, quite simplistically crafted piece of jewelry, were the epitome of the most simplistic thing in the world: unconditional, unfathomable love. While Ziva loved both of her children this way and beyond, the possibility of someone loving her just as much had been lost on her for a long time. She had re-discovered that possibility after Somalia with those she now called her family. Like that, she was still carrying that golden pendant with her in a way.


	9. PRES A Gallery of Faces

**Back to the Present: **Yes, it's time for another, post-accident Tony-chapter in-between.

**Reviews**: Because writers are really needy when it comes to reviews I would really like to thank - once again - those of your who do and, incessantly so, would really like to urge - once again - those of you who don't to drop me line of their thoughts. After all, this chap alone is about 10,000 words long, so I deem my innocent request only fair ;)

* * *

**Chap 9**** A Gallery of Faces**

_Saturday, November 16__th__ 2018_

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

Tony awoke to utter silence and a massive cramp in the back of his neck. He had fallen asleep in the chair by Ziva's bed and had spent hours of restless slumber waking himself up whenever his head tilted forward in his endlessly uncomfortable sitting position. For a brief moment of bliss he thought that everything had been just a very bad, very subconsciously sick nightmare. It wasn't. When his eyes fell on Ziva in that hospital bed, just lying there with a ventilator taking up breathing for her, he knew. It wasn't. Ziva had been in an accident. Ziva was in a coma. He had never felt so alone in his life, not even when his mother had passed away. The eight-year-old Tony DiNozzo had found solace in the childish illusion that his own father would eventually snap out of it and take care of him like mommy had. But now, now was different. Forty-something Tony DiNozzo neither knew anybody he wanted to look to for care and comfort but the very person that lay unconscious before him, nor had he allowed himself to indulge in childish illusions ever since.

The morning nurse must have opened the curtains without waking him. As the hazy morning sun was replacing the artificial neon tube Ziva appeared even more lifeless than last night. Her tanned skin only faintly set itself apart from the dull whiteness of the pillow, a wan silhouette against pastier backdrop. He looked at the clock on the far wall of the hospital room: It was _nine to eight in the morning_. He didn't remember when he had finally fallen asleep. Sitting here, just looking at her, waiting, doing what he had been doing all night last night didn't let this new day appear any different. It seemed like an endless assault, an endlessly draining assault.

He didn't know why, he didn't even ponder the why, but he kept staring at her for another hour, dragging minutes along with him. He vaguely mumbled greetings at nurses that came to check Ziva's vitals. He might even have declined a bite to eat. He didn't actually remember. He just sat staring at her. That's why he didn't even notice the door open behind him. He didn't even notice that person's footsteps to be so much heavier, so much slower than any nurse's that had made an appearance so far. He didn't even notice Gibbs coming to a halt right next to his chair, the older man's piercing sapphire eyes scanning Ziva's body up and down. He didn't even notice the pained look that swiftly settled on Gibbs' face.

"You gotta eat", Gibbs stated plainly, making his presence known.

Tony simply looked up at the man he secretly viewed as the father figure he had never had, staring blankly at the side of his face. Gibbs wasn't looking at him, his eyes were planted on Ziva's face. Tony couldn't help but notice wrinkles on Gibbs' face he had never seen before. They certainly hadn't erupted on Gibbs' face overnight, but Tony had never noticed them before. For some reason he found those deep lines on his mentor's face more fascinating than anything else at that moment.

"Vending machine's down", Gibbs continued, finally tearing his eyes away from the frail figure on the bed and resting his eyes on Tony's unfocused stare, "We gotta go to the cafeteria."

It took a few heartbeats longer for Gibbs' words to register in Tony's mind. When he had finally made sense of it, Tony turned back towards Ziva, a quiet _'But'_ slipping from his dry lips.

"Nurses got your cell number in case anything happens", Gibbs returned calmly, "We won't be far."

Tony nodded his head and got up. This time he hardly recognized the prickling pain that spread in his legs. Somehow that sensation was the only thing that made him feel alive right now, as if he was actually there. "She won't run away, right?", Tony quipped half-heartedly, the smile he tried to plaster on his face contorting to a pained grimace.

Gibbs led his former Senior Field Agent down to the first floor, their walk through the halls of the hospital remaining completely silent. He didn't feel the need to say anything and right now he doubted Tony would have much appreciated him saying anything. It wasn't Gibbs' thing anyway. He was there, that's how he handled grief. And if need be, he would say what he thought needed to be said. It wasn't actually as easy as that, but sometimes he just needed it to be. When they stepped into the cafeteria it was almost empty. The faces of its scattered occupants looked grim, most of them having spent the night or were pulling early mornings for terminal relatives, withering patients. Tony tried to shake the thought of him being among their dreary ranks and accepted the tray Gibbs was handing him. Walking along the counter he arbitrarily chose a sandwich and whatever drink closest to it and quickly left in search for the seat furthest away from the faces he knew were not much unlike his own. Gibbs simply observed, taking nothing for himself, and eventually followed Tony, sitting down opposite him on a table nearby.

Tony had already ripped the re-usable package off the sandwich and was eyeing that which would be his breakfast wearily. With a sigh he took a small bite of it, chewing slowly and heavily. Gibbs had his forearms propped up on the table and was watching him with an indiscernible expression on his face. "Went by Abby's and McGee's on the way here, kids are still sleeping", he informed calmly.

Tony nodded, taking his second disgruntled bite. "How are they?", he mumbled.

"You do what you can, they'll be fine."

Tony swallowed. "Meaning?"

"I'll stay with Ziva, you go, get them home", Gibbs instructed easily, his voice unwavering.

Tony immediately put the sandwich down and interjected, "No way. I gotta stay and-"

"You help no one by sitting there and staring holes at her bed."

"She needs me there", Tony argued, his voice gaining the heaviness of emotion.

"Your kids need you."

"And you know that how?"

"Because Ziva's hooked up to a ventilator up there and they'll remember every minute you weren't there", Gibbs challenged, the calm evenness gone from his tone.

"_She'll_ remember."

"I'll stay, you come back when they're settled."

"Just who do you think you are?", Tony blurted out suddenly, his voice louder than he had intended. People turned their heads momentarily but neither Tony nor Gibbs noticed.

"I'm the one who watched Ziva take care of those kids while you were off rubbing elbows", Gibbs retorted.

"Oh, that's what this is about?", Tony scoffed, a derisive laugh escaping his lips.

"You don't know what this is about."

"You think? You think I don't know what's going on here? I'm fucking Patrick Jane!"

"Man up, will ya?", Gibbs hollered, "You can't change what happened, so deal with it."

"Ah...that's rich. 'Cause you're an expert on the subject of dealing, aren't ya?", Tony sneered, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms in front of his chest, "What does the big L.J. Gibbs suggest I do? Go downtown and gun down the guy who rammed Ziva's car? That's your idea of dealing, isn't it? Well, here's news for you: I'd have to go to the morgue, because my little Pedro Pocket didn't have the decency to live long enough so I could kill him."

An eerie pause settled between the two men, bloated and waning. Tony was catching his breath from his rant while Gibbs continued to stare at him. "You finished?", Gibbs asked nonchalantly.

"I actually wanted to throw in a few pieces comparing you to the Count of Monte Cristo and Bill, the Carradine version, you know? But other than that... Yes, it pretty much came out the way I wanted", Tony assessed blankly, his arms still folded and his eyes wide with emotion, "I'm good."

Gibbs nodded and got up. "94 Hulland Drive."

"Come again?", Tony raised his eyebrows.

"Abby's and McGee's place, got a new one three months ago", Gibbs clarified and took a few steps towards the doors before he stopped again. "She'd _want_ you with them, not her." Then he left.

* * *

**94 Hulland Drive, Apartment 2**

Tony didn't follow Gibbs back upstairs. He knew Gibbs would stay by Ziva's side, unflinching and unmoving, for as long as it would take Tony to get the kids settled down. Problem was, though, Tony had no idea how he was supposed to do that. His thoughts were everything but settled, how was he supposed to get anybody settled down then? What did that mean anyway? _Get settled down…_ He had no idea. He had spent minutes just staring at Ziva's car down in the hospital parking lot, realizing again and again that everything wasn't just a bad dream. It was real, sickeningly so. Instead of sitting behind the steering wheel of her own car, Ziva was upstairs in a hospital bed. For some reason he needed to repeat that very fact over and over to himself. It seemed so unreal. A coma. He knew that it wasn't that bad of a thing, it helped her body recuperating, mending but frankly, Tony didn't give a damn. He wanted her back, alive and conscious - the whole Ziva-package. How he would have loved to endure her chastising, her persistent stares, her narrowed eyes, her menacing look because he was doing it all wrong, for handling it all wrong. He would have given the world to have her ninja-killer-look gleaming back at him right now.

When he arrived at McGee's and Abby's apartment half an hour later he couldn't help but think how he must have looked like the perfect sitcom-ised caricature of himself just standing in front of their door, arm raised and fist clenched, yet unable to bring his knuckles to make contact with the wood.

"You might wanna try knocking at some point, Tony", McGee's voice from inside the door made him jump.

"How'd you do that, McPrecog?", Tony cried out, looking around suspiciously, his position unchanged.

"I installed wide-angle cameras and sound sensitive EWS all over the place", McGee explained lightly, still talking to a closed door, "And you've been looking like a perfect still life for ten minutes now."

"The boondocks' shotgun is a McGeek's alarm system, huh?"

"More like a forensic-specialist-mommy-to-be's alarm system, but you get the picture", McGee retorted, finally opening the door to greet his former co-worker with a slack smile.

Tony let his arm fall limply to his side, realizing that he was probably getting a tennis elbow anyway. He finally stepped into the apartment, his gaze momentarily resting on the tech-quipment by the door that drove a small smile onto his face. "Right, how's that coming anyway?", he asked randomly, trying to rub away the familiar prickling in his right arm.

"On hold…for the time being", McGee answered sincerely, welcoming back the heaviness of the situation, "How's Ziva?"

"Hanging in there."

"So… You here to get the kids?", McGee inquired, leading the way into the adjacent living room.

"Yeah, Gibbs is staying with Ziva. Thought I'd get them home and settled down, you know?", Tony answered, his voice void of color.

McGee looked right through it. When Gibbs had come by their apartment in the morning to check with them about David and Tali, he and Abby had gotten into a little argument whether it would be best for them to stay here or go back home with Tony. They had eventually agreed that Ziva would have wanted their children with their father, his recently little experience and practice as a father to both of his children notwithstanding. Somehow McGee had heard Gibbs phrase the whole matter in just the same way as Tony had just now.

"They're in the nursery with Abby", McGee informed quickly, receiving only an irreverent nod from Tony, "We tried explaining the coma to them, but they were pretty shaken by the accident as it was. I don't know how much Tali's actually understood, but I think she gets that Ziva's not okay. And David… He's kinda keeping it bottled up."

Tony kept nodding along to McGee's briefing, his eyes focused on the door across the room that led to the bedrooms. He didn't really know what to do now. It had been so clear so far: get to McGee's and Abby's place, knock on the door and get inside. He'd already failed the second part of his clear-cut plan, and the difficult one was yet to come. "Did they sleep?", he asked the first thing that came to his mind. Remembering he didn't get much himself, it seemed like a logical thing to ask.

"Abby stayed with Tali in the nursery, but I guess they both didn't get much sleep. I checked up on them a few times and they were awake almost every time. David nodded off at some point and I carried him over to our bedroom. He looked peaceful enough", McGee ended with a small smile.

He had spent the whole night sitting at his computer at the desk in their bedroom, doing background research on the list Gibbs had given him only an hour prior to the accident. Seeing as they had gone into full panic-aversion-mode from then on he hadn't had time to do it before and he had sort of needed the distraction - sleep hadn't been an option and neither had been leaving David alone. Without Ziva and her contacts he hadn't uncovered anything useful to their case, but then again, he doubted getting actual work done had been the actual purpose.

"Thanks Tim", Tony said sincerely.

"You would have done the same for us", McGee returned just as sincerely. Tony, however, wasn't quite so sure about that. At the moment he wasn't quite so sure about a lot of things and one of them was the belief into his own ability to pull any of this off, but he nodded despite himself.

Tony hadn't even realized that they had left their spot in the middle of the living room, surprised when McGee opened the door to the nursery to reveal Abby, Tali and David perched on the floor. Tali was sitting in Abby's lap across from David, some sort of board game between them. Abby was quietly instructing Tali as to the next steps of the game, a smile on her face that appeared a hundred watt dimmer than her usual beaming Abby-ness. David seemed to be actually trying, but Tali's half-heartedness was so obvious Tony's heart broke.

"Look who's here", McGee announced with some faux enthusiasm.

"Tony", Abby realized, the sound of relief in her voice somewhat relieving Tony as well. Tilting her head, she whispered into Tali's ear, "It's daddy."

Tali merely turned her head to confirm her Auntie's statement but quickly focused back on the game. David, however, stared at Tony and Tony kept staring back. The little boy seemed entirely unsure how to react, what to do. Tony knew he should have said something, anything to comfort him or reassure his son's reservation, but nothing came to mind. For once Tony DiNozzo didn't know what to say. Children in general had always been kind of a sore subject for Tony. While his sarcasm and jokester-diploma would work its charm on most adults - or at least repulse them immediately - children simply weren't prone to sarcasm, irony and movie-references. But those were _his_ children. Still, though, his first instincts he couldn't act upon and that added to the awkwardness of the situation.

"Now you can go home, to your own rooms and your own games and toys", Abby said, trying to sound cheerful and calming at the same time.

"We won't stay here with Auntie Abby and Uncle Tim?", David inquired cautiously.

"No, buddy, you're gonna come home with me", Tony stated finally, taking a few steps towards his son and crouching down in front of him, "But I'm sure Auntie Abby and Uncle Tim will come visit really soon."

The little boy looked up at McGee, who was still standing in the doorway. McGee nodded affirmatively. "Okay", David agreed quietly, moving to put away the game they had been playing all morning.

"Mommy home?", Tali asked tentatively, turning to face Abby with hopefully widened eyes.

"No, Tally-Wally, mommy won't be home. Remember what we talked about? How mommy's sleeping really tight right now?", Abby answered gently, brushing some wayward curls out of the little girl's face.

"'Cause of the accident, Tali", David added gravelly. Tali nodded her head slowly, looking down at her hands.

"Mommy's in the hospital right now, but we'll go see her tomorrow, I promise", Tony said, turning to his daughter but Tali didn't look up.

"I wan' my mommy now, Aun'ie Abby", Tali sighed, sounding as if the last few hours had merely been some kind of waiting game and she was ready now for it to be over, sounding as if Ziva and she were merely playing hide and seek and she was ready now to give up and for Ziva to come out of hiding.

"She can't come right now, sweetie."

"Make mommy come?", she asked sweetly, staring holes into Abby's eyes.

"That's not so easy, Tali", Abby answered morosely, her voice catching in her throat.

"Unca M'ee?", she tried again, turning to McGee now.

McGee sighed and finally crossed the distance between the doorway and their exchange. He kneeled down in front of his niece-of-choice. He opened his mouth, the first syllable seemingly hanging on his lips. A weak smile formed on his face. "I can't make her come either, sweetheart."

"Unca 'ibbs can!", the little girl exclaimed resolutely, her features brightening with the new idea. Uncle Gibbs could do anything. Uncle Gibbs always got mommy to do things. Uncle Gibbs was mommy's boss, he could just as well get her to come home.

"No, honey, not even Uncle Gibbs can make your mommy come home right now", Tony relented quietly, trying to catch his daughter's eyes but Tali was determinedly staring at McGee, "Only the doctors can make mommy wake up and come home with us. And they can't just now."

Tali's expression darkened and her eyes started brimming with tears. "Wanna stay here", she sniffled, turning her head into Abby's shoulder.

Tony looked at Abby with narrowed eyes, but the Goth was gaping back at him just as helplessly. Both David and Tali were still wearing the clothes Ziva had put on them the day before, they hadn't slept in their own beds, they weren't in their familiar surroundings. Tali didn't even have Shim with her. Tony could have gotten some things from their apartment to bring back here, but there was no way around it. Going home was the right thing to do. Tony had known from the beginning that it wouldn't be easy. He had been building thin layers of trust with his daughter while Ziva had been around to comfort and understand her hesitation. But now…

"We gotta go home, Tali. Don't you wanna go home to your things and your room? To Shim?", Tony tried a different approach, remembering the hippo's name from when Ziva had asked him to fetch it after Tali had left it in the living room before bedtime the other day. Tali nodded her head against Abby's shoulder.

"It's gonna be so much better than here with all the baby games and baby toys. Your things are so much cooler, home's much more fun than here", Abby asserted exaggeratedly, caressing Tali's cheek.

Tali mulled this over in her mind for a while. Then she raised her head and looked right into Abby's eyes. "You come too?", she requested sincerely.

"Sweetie, I don'-"

"Sure thing. Your Auntie Abby will come right along with us", Tony cut in, shooting Abby a charmingly quick smile before raising his eyebrows expectantly at his daughter.

Tali glanced at her father briefly and then nodded her okay. Abby refrained from glaring at Tony. She knew how hard this was on him. Rebuilding trust and relationships with his children hadn't been an easy feat with Ziva still around to lessen the blows, but with Ziva in the hospital and the added weight of her condition - this whole thing was anything _but_ easy. She figured going with them and making sure they were alright for the time being wouldn't hurt. Tony seemed content enough. Having Abby there would ease them into the transition, he hoped. He just couldn't start them on daddy-dearest-treatment cold turkey. It wouldn't have been fair and he doubted it would have worked in the first place. He turned to his right. David had already gotten up from the floor and had observed their exchange silently thus far. The little boy shrugged his shoulders. That was good enough for Tony as well. He straightened up too and reached down to pick Tali up, but the little girl immediately shrunk away from his approaching hands, burying herself deeper into her Auntie Abby.

"Come on, Tali, let's go home", Tony appealed to his three-year-old daughter, a trace of desperation already imminent in his voice. She shook her head adamantly. Tony sighed exasperatedly. "But you just said-"

"Tony", Abby warned, watching a first tear run down Tali's face.

Abby's tone reminded Tony painfully of Ziva's at breakfast three days ago. He watched his daughter inhale sharply, trying to keep tears at bay that had been threatening to fall for quite some time now. His expression softened visibly. It pained him to see his daughter hurt so much and still, he couldn't seem to find anything to help her, ease her pain. "Princess…", he called out gently, crouching down in front of her again.

"Azov oti", the little girl whispered, slapping at the hand Tony was about to reach out once again.

He looked first at Abby and then at McGee, but both vaguely shook their heads. They had no idea what the little girl was saying. They were pretty sure it wasn't anything in Tony's favor, but they knew way too little Hebrew to be absolutely positive. Tony tried hard to resist the urge and pull his daughter into a hug. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her and it killed him that he seemed to play a major part in causing her pain. "Tali, look at me", he pleaded.

"Azov oti", she repeated, a little louder this time.

"Don't you wanna go with your daddy, Tali?", Abby inquired.

"No", the three-year-old shook her head.

Abby looked up just in time to see the pain run across Tony's face. The proudest man she knew being rejected by his own daughter and her heart went out to him. Then again, however, he had left. Again and again he had said goodbye to his little daughter. Abby knew and she somehow understood why Tony had done it, but in the mind of a little girl her daddy had rejected her time and time again - and it was payback-time. McGee didn't even try stealing a glance at Tony. He kept his eyes firmly planted on Abby and Tali.

Tony felt completely crushed inside. "Tali…"

"Azov oti, bevakasha!", Tali screeched, her eyes wide and her body going rigid in Abby's lap.

"Tali!", Abby cautioned, taken aback by the three-year-old's outburst. Granted, she had seen Tali throw tantrums, but this seemed different and she couldn't exactly pinpoint why. The one her outbreak was directed at had changed, that's for sure. Neither of the three knew what to say, how to react. McGee and Tony looked just as dumbfounded as Abby did.

Suddenly David turned up next to Tony and held out his hand to his little sister. "C'mon, Tali", he insisted calmly, "Let's get our things."

The little girl looked up at her big brother for a moment, eyeing his hand suspiciously. Then she pushed herself out of Abby's lap, took his outstretched hand and let herself be guided out of the door and, presumably, into the foyer where she had discarded her things the day before. The adults in the room could do nothing but look on, speechless and astonished by what had just happened right in front of their eyes.

"If I'd known it was that easy…", Tony perked up first, his eyes still transfixed on the doorway.

"_That_…you don't see everyday", McGee muttered.

"They have a whole sibling-bond thing going for them, huh?", Tony inquired, lightness returning to his tone, regardless of its utter superficiality. He straightened back up.

"You know how much it matters to Ziva that they get along well as brother and sister", Abby retorted, accepting McGee's hand to get up from the floor. Narrowing her eyes at Tony, however, she added sharply, "Ah right, you don't." With that she left the room to check on the kids' progress with their shoes and coats.

Only faintly surprised by Abby's last comment, McGee put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "I wouldn't read too much into it. The whole thing's just…really getting to her."

"And who are we talking about exactly? Abby or Tali?"

"Abby", McGee answered definitely, putting his lips into a thin line.

"Was afraid you'd say that, Timmy", Tony nodded, smiling crookedly.

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

They eventually left in separate cars. While the kids rode with Abby, Tony was alone in Ziva's car once again. Somehow, he sitting behind that steering wheel was fast becoming the embodiment of their entire situation. He had no idea how he was going to set things right again. Things weren't right. Far from it. As long as the love of his life and the mother of his two children was in a coma, unresponsive, nothing was right, nothing was. He didn't want to go and promise everything would be alright, somehow, sometime - neither to himself nor to his kids. He didn't want to promise something he couldn't be sure was a promise he could keep. He remembered all those people who had promised him, eight years old and yearning, that everything would be okay again, his mother would be okay again. When she hadn't been, the hope he had piled up because of them had almost crushed him. No, he wouldn't promise uncertainty. Other than that, he wasn't sure about anything.

When they entered the apartment he thought he saw something of an apologetic look on Abby's face. The corners of her mouth lifted faintly and he nodded his head. She had been right after all, he knew that. Then his eyes fell on Tali struggling with getting out of her new coat. He bent over to help her, but the moment his fingers grazed the thick fabric the little girl flinched.

"Lo Aba!", she turned and pulled away from him immediately. Her eyes were burning with angry tears. She struggled out of her coat and threw it on the floor. "Histalek! Azov oti!", she yelled angrily and ran off.

Tony leapt after her and watched her rush up the stairs before he felt something or somebody holding him back. Turning around, his eyes fell on David gripping the hem of his jacket. Tony raised his eyebrows questioningly at his son. "She said leave her alone", the little boy demanded plainly.

"Now, I can't exactly leave her _alone_, can I?", Tony returned through gritted teeth, slowly losing his patience with everything that had been going wrong lately. There were days when you just shouldn't have gotten up in the morning - this was definitely one of them.

"She wants you to, so you should", the six-year-old declared resolutely, letting go of Tony, "You don't listen."

Tony stared at his son for another moment, finding the same emerald eyes staring back at him. Then David turned away and stalked off after his little sister. Tony felt a wave of déjà-vu seizing his insides. "What just happened?", he wailed, looking around only to find Abby look back at him, her expression almost bashful.

"They just want their mommy, Tony", Abby mumbled, trying hard to look away from his blank face but failing.

"Do you really think I don't know that, Abs?", he shot back, his eyes not leaving the foot of the stairs where his son and crying daughter had just vanished, "Do you think I don't know that all they want is their mommy and I simply-" He broke off.

A lump had formed in his throat, he couldn't say it. He just couldn't say it out loud. Instead, the image of her body, bruised and broken, choked by the insufferably white sheets of that hospital bed, started flashing in front of his tired eyes. Ziva. The Mossad assassin, the woman who could kill with paperclips and credit cards, put in a coma by a drunk driver. The fact the guy had died on impact wasn't very consoling either, it just couldn't outweigh the facts. He couldn't help her. Heck, he didn't even know if she would ever wake up again

"They are used to the way Ziva handles things", Abby tried again, this time putting more sympathy into her voice.

She didn't mean it as an accusation either. It just was what it was: Ziva had her way with their kids and Tony slightly lacked in that department. He wasn't a bad guy. He wasn't a bad father either, Ziva had told her so herself - more than once. He just wasn't giving himself enough credit and he had a habit of not trying hard enough when things were getting difficult. Now, their situation hadn't been an easy one to begin with. And it hadn't gotten easier with time.

"Just that I don't _know_ how Ziva handles things", Tony lamented, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

"You don't need to", Abby answered simply, "What you need is to find the Tony-way of handling things."

"Abby, my son's gone all Mr. Hyde on me and my daughter treats me like Kryptonite", he stated sardonically, staring blankly at Abby's determined face.

"That is _so_ not true", she countered forcefully, taking a step towards him, "Tali… She just doesn't know you, Tony. Try getting to know her, try getting her to trust you and you'll see… She's all you." Abby added the last part with the hint of a smirk Tony couldn't help but mirror, if just for a second. "And David is like Ziva. He wouldn't let you see it, but he's just really, really scared and he gets it out of his system by lashing out. That boy worships you, the you he _knows_, but you're not really acting like yourself right now. If anything you're the Mr. Hyde here."

"If David really is like Ziva I'll be lucky to survive the night", Tony muttered absentmindedly, his eyes diverting to the foot of the stairs, checking his son wouldn't hear.

"He's actually quite the smart kid that one", Abby smiled proudly, "Understanding."

"I thought you said he was like Ziva?", Tony quipped, trying to feel like the smirk he was putting on.

"He is."

Tony half-nodded. She was right, again. Only six years old, David had taken charge in each Tali-confrontation today when they all had been at a loss as to what to do. "He totally gets Tali, doesn't he?", Tony mused.

"That's kinda his thing actually. He just _gets_ people", Abby explained, nodding her head at what she deemed the slight progress they were making, "He'll just sit at Ziva's desk in the bullpen and draw a picture or read those Hebrew fairy tales Ziva is writing down with him. And people will come and go and talk and not talk and he'll just sit there and listen. And at the end of the day he'll ask why Uncle McGee is sad or why his mom's angry or why his Uncle Gibbs isn't telling _some_body _some_thing. And I mean, you wouldn't know what to say 'cause you hadn't even realized that McGee was sad or that Ziva was angry or that Gibbs was keeping secrets again. He'll just _know_… Totally amazing that kid."

Abby was beaming at him but Tony felt even more miserable than before. He didn't even know his own children. He had turned out like… He didn't even need to tab into his vast pool of movie-references there: Had turned out like his own father. And Senior - he had never had his own way, let alone known what to do with his only child. Tony was gazing back at her with doubt written all over his face, "Why the hell did she do that?"

"Tony, I seriously doubt Ziva got herself into a coma on purpose."

"No! No, I mean-", he let his eyes sink to the floor and mumbled, "Why did she ever let me go to Spain?"

"Wasn't her call to make", Abby stated simply, shrugging her shoulders.

His look seemed defeated. He knew it hadn't been Ziva's choice, it had never been. He had asked her opinion alright, but she had never given him an answer, claiming that it simply was not _her_ choice but _his_. And she had supported his choice, regardless. He had already been thousands of miles away on the other side of the Atlantic. She had known all along what he had wanted, what had built up throughout the months beforehand as less of a choice but more of a logic consequence.

They had once again been part of a from-start-to-finish scheme, meticulously woven by one Tobias Fornell and one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. They just hadn't realized that they had been a vital factor in the big-boy game-play in that it had been just as vital they be as clueless as anybody else. In the end it had played out just the way Fornell und Gibbs had planned it all along. They had not only caught a murderer but also his accomplice and an entire cartel-in-the-making. For Tony, however, it had been the last straw after years of assembling a fine collection of straws he would have been able to braid a set of hats with by then. Having been the Senior Field Agent under Gibbs for almost eighteen years he would have expected - an entirely futile expectation it seemed - to be somehow invited into the loop, to somehow make it onto the need-to-know list.

When he hadn't, however, the opportunity of a highly coveted mission in Spain had been perfect for much needed venting. At first it had been arranged as a job-for-two with Ziva assigned alongside him. His partner in job and life, however, had just given birth to their second child and had had no intention of leaving their three-year-old son and their baby daughter alone and possible orphans by embarking on a high risk mission somewhere in the West of Europe. Tony had taken on the mission anyway, managing perfectly well - so well even that Vance had offered him a permanent position on behalf of SECNAV. It had been a one-chance-only, one-person-only kind of deal he had eventually agreed on. Rule #38 just didn't cut it any longer. And suddenly, Tony was leading his own team, leading his own department and consequently leading his young family to lead a very separated kind of life.

Tony scoffed, "One hell of a call _I_ made."

"David's right, you don't listen", Abby snapped, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Again?", he groaned, his eyes conjuring Abby's softer side to return to him, "What did you do to soft-Goth oxymoron-Abby?"

"Tony, I don't care if you don't like what I'm saying. Of course, it would really help if you'd listen to what I'm saying, _even_ if you don't like what I'm saying. All I care about are those kids who want everything back to how it was", Abby retorted and started to pace, her voice dangling between high-pitched fury and gentle understanding, "I know it's hard and I know you're hurting because of Ziva but Ziva isn't _gone_. She'll come back. She'll come around. I know you're afraid she won't, but that's Ziva we're talking about. She's like Ayers Rock with a creamy surprise. She'll pull through it. And you're not the only one hurting here. They are hurting too, Tony. There are two small children up there and they need all the help and sympathy they can get. From _you_, from their _father_. If you need a spell of sympathy, get plastered and weep to the cab driver of your choice... And _no_, that's not a real suggestion."

"I'm trying, Abs", Tony countered, his jaw clenching yet disregarding the Goth's strange references.

"Then try _harder_. Don't you think they deserve that much?" Tony looked appalled by the mere insinuation. "Yeah, I thought so."

"You did?", Tony posed diffidently.

"Tony, I think you're a great dad if you wanna be", Abby relented, her eyes lightening up, "But you have two really great kids up there who are completely terrified right now, so it's kinda time you got your act together… I mean, get a grip on yourself. You chase psycho killers for a living, man."

"And I'm good at it too…", Tony mused, tilting his head to the side, "But this…here…right now… It's scaring the shit outta me."

"Good", Abby nodded.

"Good?"

"Yeah, you're finally taking this seriously."

"Abby, I've never taken this anything _but_ seriously."

"No, I don't mean _'I'm so down in the dumps, please pity me'_-seriously. I mean _damn-it-macho-_seriously", Abby exclaimed heartily, her eyes widening, "Tony-seriously."

Tony stayed quiet for a moment, just staring at Abby and pondering what she had just said. "Tony-serious, huh?", he smiled a feeble smile.

"Yeah, you know? The butch with a lacing of compassion kind", a small smile tugged at her lips.

"She really is going to come around, you know", he stated earnestly, his emerald eyes burning into hers.

"Oh God, I hope so", Abby cried out and flung herself at Tony, hugging him tightly.

"Hello? She's Ziva. She's gone through worse", he asserted heavily, trying to convince himself as much as Abby, "This is just a dent in her superwoman-résumé. A little tumble on the way to the jungle."

"Or manganese symproportionating to manganese dioxide", Abby joined in eagerly. Tony quickly pulled away and looked at the forensic specialist with his forehead scrunched up in wrinkles, a skeptical look on his face. Abby reacted intuitively, "Symproportionation's a special case redox reaction where the same elements with different oxidation numbers will react so as to kinda recreate that element with an oxidation number intermediate to-" Tony's look of deep-wrinkled skepticism didn't change, however, causing Abby to break off.

Biting her bottom lip, Abby asked tentatively, "Less sophisticated cheers?"

"Humor me, please?"

"Bumaye, Ziva!", Abby cheered enthusiastically, punching the air around her with her fists.

"Ah… gratuitously destructive with a splash of gothic genius", Tony slurred hoarsely in full impersonation-mode, "I like it." Abby smiled proudly.

Abby and Tony eventually agreed he wouldn't need her there as back-up for the rest of the afternoon _slash_ evening. Noticing the irresolute expression on Tony's face, however, Abby assured him that she wouldn't let her cell out of sight and even go to sleep with it right next to her in case anything happened. Knowing he could count on her support and help sort of reassured Tony enough to jump the shark. So, after bidding Abby goodbye he found himself knocking softly on the door to his son's room only a few minutes later. He didn't get an answer, though. That much he had actually expected. He had also expected, however, to receive some sort of semi-harsh reaction afterwards. When that didn't come, Tony felt at least safe enough to open the door. He stayed in the doorway, but what he saw broke his heart: Tali was lying on her brother's bed, tightly asleep, while David was sitting on the ground, playing. He didn't look up when Tony decided to cross the room and sit down on the floor next to his son, leaning back against the bedframe.

While David astutely continued to ignore him, Tony found the time to look around the room. It was still painted in the generous green he had chosen over seven years ago when they had first moved into the apartment, just shortly after finding out about Ziva's pregnancy. Ziva had wanted yellow and he had wanted blue - eventually they had agreed upon green, Tony promising their second child's room would be yellow then. Ziva had scoffed at the mere thought of a second child, but they did in fact have another one and they did in fact paint Tali's room in a soft pastel yellow.

Tony was just about to examine the books and games on the shelf across the room when David's soft voice jerked him back to reality, "Auntie Abby leave?"

"Yeah", Tony answered absentmindedly, trying to catch David's eyes but the little boy was still looking intently at his toys, "She still has work to do."

Not knowing that Tony had basically just white-lied to him and sincerely not caring, David nodded without looking up. Tony turned around slightly to look at his daughter on the bed. She was clutching Shim tightly to her. Her deep slumber, the soft snores emanating from her sleeping form rendered her so peaceful and unharmed - much different from how she had looked all day. While the remnants of salty tears were still covering her blotchy face he had never seen her look more angelic and perfect than right at that moment. He couldn't help but smile before he turned back to face his son.

"You kinda hated me today, didn't you?", Tony tried to sound casual.

This earned him a confused frown on his son's face. David finally looked up to meet his father's widened eyes. "I don't hate you", the six-year-old assured firmly, "Uncle Gibbs said you can only hate really bad people."

"I'm not that bad yet, huh?", Tony continued, looking on expectantly. David shook his head. "But I did pretty bad today, eh?"

The little boy ultimately discarded his toys and settled into a more comfortable, cross-legged position on the floor. He seemed quite bewildered by his father's odd questions at first, but thinking about it, they didn't seem all that silly anymore. "Tali said to leave her alone", David stated matter-of-factly, carrying them both back to what had happened first at Abby's and McGee's place and then down in the living room.

"You realize I don't understand a word Hebrew, right?", Tony pressed on, his face completely void of apparent emotion.

"Azov oti", the little boy repeated forcefully, "It's _'leave me alone'._ Told you."

"I know. I didn't listen", Tony said, his face contorting to an apologetic DiNozzo-grimace of deep wrinkles on the forehead, narrowed eyes and lips pressed together in a half-smile. David nodded. Silence fell over the room for a moment that was only broken by Tali's soft snores. "Azuv o- what now?", Tony said suddenly.

"Azov…oti", David answered slowly, a smile flickering across his face.

"Azooooov…"

"Oti", the little boy reiterated, the smile now settling firmly on his face.

"Azov. Oti. Leave me alone. Azov oti. I'll remember that for future use", Tony repeated, smiling proudly, "See, I can't do this by myself."

"What?", David asked, slightly confused.

"You and your sister. Your sister and you", Tony answered evenly, shrugging his shoulders, "I mean, come on, I can't even understand what Tali's saying. I'd need someone to translate, tell me what she's saying. And then I'd need someone to tell me what you're allowed to do with your mom and what not. And…and then… I'd need someone to tell me what you usually do when you usually do what you usually do. Know what I mean?"

David started nodding his head when suddenly an idea struck him so obviously that Tony couldn't help but smirk at the light bulb that was switched on behind his son's green eyes. "I can do that!", the little boy announced decidedly.

"Nah, you can't", Tony shook his head, waving the six-year-old off in mock-disbelief, huffing exaggeratedly.

"Can too."

"Cannot."

"Can too."

"Can- Really? Ya think?", Tony quickly switched from mock-disbelief to expectantly widened eyes.

"Yes", David nodded his head excitedly, "I know Hebrew. I understand Tali. And I know what we do all the time 'cause I'm here and I know what mommy doesn't like we do s'well."

"So, you could be kinda like my little helper, huh?", Tony started nodding along to his son, "The Robin to my Batman, the Spock to my Captain Kirk, the Bucky to my Captain America, the Chewbacca to my Han Solo, the Patrick Star to my SpongeBob Squarepants…the cockroach to my WALL-E." Tony stopped his reference reverie upon his son's befuddled and very Ziva-like look of very furrowed brows. "You my Bert now?", Tony asked hopefully, holding his hand up for David.

The little boy eyed his father's hand suspiciously for a moment as Tony's words continued on their slow sinking in. He glanced over at his sleeping little sister. He had never seen her as upset as that afternoon. He wanted to stay mad at his dad, but he knew that his mom would want him to help. After all, his dad had said he wanted him to be his little helper, just like he was his mom's little helper all the time. "'kay, Ernie", the little boy exclaimed dutifully and high-fived his grinning father.

"Now that that's settled…", Tony started, cringing inwardly at the choice of words that had haunted him all day now, "I'm kinda hungry. How 'bout you, bud?"

David looked down at his belly as if asking for its opinion. "Me too."

Tony slightly turned around once more, looking at Tali. "Does she do that often?", he inquired plainly, pointing at Tali with his face turned back towards his son.

"Ah-huh", David nodded again, "She always takes a nap 'cause she's littler."

"Ah…figures." Tony raised his eyebrows. "And how come she's sleeping in here?"

"Donno", the six-year-old shrugged his shoulders, "She was here when I came up, so I let her stay."

"And… Do we wake her?", Tony whispered hesitantly, leaning closer to David.

"Nope. Tali's really cranky when you wake her up. She'll wake up by herself."

"Okay", Tony exhaled and got up from the floor, crossing over to the door. He held it open and turned to look at his son expectantly. "What do you say it's spaghetti DiNozzo style for dinner?"

David, now standing directly in front of Tony between his father and the door, looked up at him with a grin, "I like."

"You do?", Tony said, taken aback by the quick success of his suggestion.

"It's my favorite. Tali's too", David informed eagerly, a trace of doubt veiling his features though, "You can do s'ghetti?"

"Are you kidding, fine Sir? Incidentally, spaghetti is my second name!", Tony boasted, adopting a much deeper voice than his own while leading his son down the hall. He had left the door slightly ajar, just in case.

"Mommy's s'ghetti are the best s'ghetti in the world", the little boy asserted definitely.

"I'm calling for recount!", Tony cried out, mock-appalled, "How 'bout I'll introduce you to daddy's spaghetti _first_ and _then_ you can decide if your mom's spaghetti really are the best spaghetti around?"

David grinned and held out his hand, "Deal." Tony took his son's hand and shook it, nodding his head.

They entered the kitchen side by side and Tony couldn't help but sigh a small, inward sigh of relief that his day was ending better than it had begun. He could have made for much less drama and a tad more normalcy in his life right now, but normal was a term he had hardly ever associated with his life anyway - let alone ever since Ziva had entered it center-stage. _Ziva…_ He would have given everything to have her stand at the counter next to him right now, preparing pasta together.

Before Tony could have descended deeper into wretched ravings, however, David's voice perked up from where he had already placed his stool customarily next to Tony and himself on top of it. "Your second name's _really_ s'ghetti?" Tony grinned.

* * *

When Tali had eventually come downstairs, Tony and David had already been setting the table, finished with cooking. The little girl, Shim clasped under her arm, had spent minutes simply watching her father and her big brother skidding around the kitchen, calling out to each other and smiling the odd smile. Tony had noticed her the moment she had stepped into the living room but had decided to leave her alone for the time being and let her move at her own speed and desire. With that new tactic the little girl had ultimately joined them at the kitchen table, mostly talking to David - or through David to Tony, that is - and had otherwise kept rather quiet. They had both, however, ruled a definite tie in the spaghetti-liking-contest. Deeming it the safest entertainment of choice, they had settled down for a movie which David had let Tali choose soon afterwards. Even bedtime had gone over without much fuss and even though Tali had refused a goodnight kiss from her father, the soft _'Layla tov'_ Tony had heard upon closing the door behind him gave him enough hope for the days to come.

Night had long settled over the apartment when suddenly a piercing scream ripped through it. Tony's eyes shot open immediately. It took him a few seconds to realize once more that he wasn't in his bed in Spain. He was home. Another scream, this time even louder than before, finally had him jump to his feet and dash across the corridor in only his sweat pants and shirt. He pushed the door to Tali's room open and rushed over to her bed where she was entangled in the covers, thrashing around and crying with her eyes tightly shut.

He kneeled down in front of her bed and placed his hands on both of her shoulders, trying to calm her. "Tali, wake up. It's daddy. It's just a dream", he cautioned, trying to sound calm while adrenalin wreaked havoc in the pit of his stomach.

The little girl's eyes darted open at once and landed on her father's scruff outlines against the faint shimmering light that was trickling into the room from outside her bedroom door. She started trembling and backed herself up against the wall, away from him, terrified whimpers coming from her mouth. Even though he felt hurt by his daughter's rejection, he knew he couldn't dwell on his own feelings right now. His daughter was scared out of her mind and he was supposed to be there and make it all better. With that thought in mind he straightened back up and slowly positioned himself on the edge of her bed, causing Tali to pull her legs tightly up against her body, trying to shrink away from him as far as possible.

"Look at me, Tali, it's daddy. It was just a dream", he tried soothingly, slowly leaning forward so that she would get a better look at his face, "It's daddy. Everything will be okay." He looked at her apprehensively. She scanned him up and down and finally rested on his emerald eyes. He tried to smile at her reassuringly and heard himself sigh with relief when she actually relaxed.

"Did you have a bad dream, huh?", Tony asked softly, reaching out to brush a sweaty strand of hair from her face. She slightly twitched from his touch at first but an earnest smile settled firmly on Tony's face when she didn't fully pull away and allowed him to put that loose curl behind her ear.

She nodded almost undetectably, sniffling. He wasn't sure what to do next, though. He wasn't sure if his presence alone was enough to calm her down. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask what the nightmare was about, if he was supposed to gather her up in his arms - he wasn't sure if she would even let him. Instead he kept staring at her, trying to put every tinge of reassurance and serenity into his gaze. And she was staring back at him, her sniffles quieting down to the odd hiccup. Suddenly he realized that his hand was still resting on her upper arm, unconsciously drawing circles in an attempt to soothe her. He noticed she wasn't flinching, wasn't even trying to back away from him. This was probably the closest he had come to his daughter in those last few hours of being the single on-hand parent.

It gave him enough confidence to whisper a feeble suggestion, "Wanna come here?"

He moved his free hand awkwardly to the side while reluctant to remove his other hand from her arm, trying to mirror what he had seen Ziva do the day before. It had been enough for Ziva to open her arms and Tali had gladly walked into her embrace. He feared it wouldn't be enough for him, though. After all, he hadn't really held his daughter since she had been a little baby. Their relationship had since been deteriorating up to the point where she would shy away from his every move towards her, first in search for her mother's more familiar touch and now…

She stared at him warily at first, trying to decipher the odd look of nervousness in his eyes. But then, with sudden determination, she slowly crawled into his lap and put her head against his chest. He was instantly hit by the warmth radiating off of her small body. Again unsure of what to do next and which one of his possible alternatives would meet her approval, he eventually opted for loosely draping his arms around her. He could feel her breathe heavily against his shirt. They sat in silence for some time. He wasn't sure what to say anyway, but it seemed to work nonetheless. She grew heavier in his arms, telling him she was slowly settling down.

Just when he felt confident enough to make the suggestion of relocating to his and Ziva's bedroom, her little voice mumbled faintly, "Da- Daddy?"

His heart skipped a beat. He felt like he had been waiting forever to hear his daughter say that. Granted, he had been in Tali's life for long enough to have her third word be _'dada'_, but altogether she was rarely addressing him. She was barely three years old, what did they expect? She didn't understand and why should she?

"Yes, princess?", he croaked, trying to fight down the lump in his throat.

"Me m- miss mommy", she whimpered.

"I know, princess", Tony offered sincerely, "Me too." He slightly tilted his head so that their eyes could meet, both having the same sympathetic smile tug at their lips. Those had probably been the first words she had spoken to him in clear English.

Talking in other languages was their children's special method of shutting him out and Tali was teaching him a lesson in terms of broken und badly mended trust whenever she reverted to Hebrew around him, the language only Ziva and the kids could understand. Naturally, he had picked up on basic words and phrases over the years but it was far from enough. After all, despite being only three years old, Tali did do it on purpose and her purpose was ignoring his presence and his fatherly advances completely and vocally. Ziva had been putting extra effort into limiting the Hebrew spoken around the house whenever he had been around, but he had always felt a bit excluded. It was a pretty immature attitude, he knew that alright, but still. The knowing glisten that could only settle in Ziva's eyes because she had understood. It didn't matter then that she would translate immediately. They had wanted her to understand, first and exclusively. It had always triggered a pang of isolation in Tony he had never been able to control. But then again, it was their prerogative, wasn't it? He had been lazy with the very fact of being a father. He had seldom acted as one, not since accepting the assignment in Spain. Not until now.

He got Spanish, though. He knew that Ziva would read stories in Spanish to them as well. And much like the pang of isolation, he had felt a pang of pride and inclusion when Ziva had told him that David had been showing a real interest in the Spanish language and in where his dad was and what he was doing. It occurred to Tony that he could take up reading those stories to them, showing them that he was indeed speaking a language they could understand - a language all of them could understand. Then again, however, holding Tali in his arms as she slowly drifted back to sleep, he thought that maybe, what he was doing right now might as well be the only kind of language his children needed right now. And even though it was a language he had neglected for quite some time, a language he was hardly very adept at, he was willing to learn. Yes, holding Tali in his arms and watching her peaceful little face succumb to dreams that were much happier, he knew he had to learn and that it was the only thing that mattered.

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_Now that you have come this far, my bliss and deeply felt appreciation is only a click of your finger away. Click-a-clickin', share your thoughts and read on in peace!_


	10. Seduction and Deception in the Eyes

**THANK YOU **for all your thoughts and reviews, I really do very much appreciate it and it makes writing this story and weaving through my own intricate plotline even more enjoyable! And as far as appreciation for your continuing interest in this story goes: Thank you for reading and taking interest into this story of mine!

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**Q&A for public display:**

**Betherzz:** First of all, thank you for your constancy...in reviewing my story! :) Now, concerning the mix-language matter: You're absolutely right in my opinion. Raising kids bi-lingually demands the utmost diligence not only towards the kids themselves but also towards every party involved. With the ability to speak different languages you impose a certain responsibility on the kids as well to identify and successfully communicate with the people in their lives in the appropriate language. It will be addressed in later chapters - as we progress through the past - that Ziva is in fact very adamant the kids, especially Tali, recognize the responsibility of talking in English to Tony. However, as we've seen and will see later on, Tali doesn't usually talk in Hebrew to those around her that aren't Ziva or David, she does get it and in that it is a very clear statement towards Tony and her reservation towards him. I do realize it's rude, and it is, but she's a little girl against the complex world of adult life and she's merely maxing out her limited abilities to convey her feelings to her father. It adds an additional layer to their relationship, I think, and the moment she chooses to address him in clear English becomes only more bittersweet thereupon.

**ChEmMiE:** I do understand what you mean and I'm glad you hit upon that part of the story, because I put extra effort into keeping them all, original characters or not, _in character _(as cliché as it may sound) - does make it more fun to write though anyway, because they are all so wonderfully and dysfunctionally functionally different.

**EBB and Flow: **Thank you so much for taking the trouble and reviewing this story while you read along! Seeing as this is supposed to be a long(er) story, the day-by-day routine of piecing the case together is kind of a very functional device, but it helps keeping track of the case-plotlint - at least I hope it does - and personally, I don't think they'd really get their cases done in the course of like a day or two. In that I have to disappoint you, the blue-eyed-man's identity - just like the identities of all those surrounding him, e.g. the green-eyed-man - won't be revealed for a while...the case-plotline is still in full progress. Hope to keep you immersed into this story with it, though :)

* * *

**Chap 10 ****Seduction and Deception in the Eyes**

_Friday, November 8__th__ 2018_

Ziva stepped out of a coffee shop and into the vaporous morning sun that hid behind the skies of Washington. She held a carrier with two coffees and her tea in one hand, her sunglasses and her car keys in the other. Lately, she realized, this wasn't something she did on a regular basis. More often than not she had found herself still struggling with her daughter's rather incompliant nature around this time of the morning. Today was different, however, and thus entirely on track for a change. The morning had been uneventful so far, even though she had spent the night framed by her kids. Not only had David stayed in her room after his nightmare, but Tali had also relocated to her bed without giving too much of an explanation as to the why. After waking up four more times - twice for a glass of water, once for a bathroom-run as a result of those two glasses of water and once for the assertion that she wasn't feeling well - Tali had been so completely exhausted in the morning she hadn't even put up much of a fight. Leaving her tired little girl at preschool had kicked off more than one inner guilt-trip for Ziva as it was.

That wasn't the only thing bothering her, though. David's words were still echoing in her ears as well. When she had dropped him off at school and knelt down to kiss him goodbye, he had gotten that very Tony-like pensive look on his face. That look always reminded Ziva of two forces battling for the upper hand within the little boy. Eventually, he had beckoned her back down to him and whispered into her ear, _"In my dream, you weren't there." _She had been taken aback by the confession but tried playing it down nonetheless. She had quickly assured him that he didn't have a reason to worry because she would always be there. And it wasn't the dream per se that was worrying her either. Even though it had reassured her little boy to the extent of a content smile when entering the school building, Ziva had realized that she had just made a promise she most definitely would never be able to keep. But-

Ziva stopped hard in her tracks. She was only a few feet away from where she had parked her car when a familiar tingling feeling itched at the back of her neck. She was being watched. At least she felt that way. Mossad had left her slightly paranoid alright, but she could usually count on her instincts. She opened the car and put the carrier on the passenger's seat, looking around. D.C. rush hour didn't make it exactly easy to detect somebody being out of place. An analogy that McGee had been kind enough to share with her on a stakeout a few years back sprang to her mind: Perpetrators were like their virtual equivalents in video games - getting better as you progress through the levels. So, they better be damn good.

She finally got into the car and drove a few miles down the block, entering a street she would normally not enter and parking her car at the next possible chance. She pretended to rummage through the contents of her glovebox when in fact she was scanning the street that opened in front of her for the best possible structure with the most advantageous facilities. Her eyes eventually landed on a shop a few feet along the road. Ziva stepped out of her car and made a beeline for the shop that obviously offered kitchenware. Inside she slowly meandered down the aisles in ostensible search for something particular. In lieu thereof she kept searching the area outside the big glass window in the front of the shop for anybody or anything that shouldn't have been there. But nobody and nothing was. Absentmindedly, she grabbed the next best kitchen utensil in her current aisle and paid cash. Out in the street she looked around again for any familiar or unbefitting face, but there were too many people swarming the street and none of them attracted exceptional attention. She sighed and looked at her watch. By the time she would arrive at NCIS headquarters she would already be a full hour late. Getting back into her car, she scoffed at the backup pan she now seemed to own and shook her head at her own paranoia. She sped down the streets in her Mini Cooper to where she was sure to receive a head slap. Gibbs had reduced them over the years as his grumpiness had been mellowed especially by the apparent gentleness he bestowed on the kids and that which he could not hide from them. Ziva had, however, only ever been granted short-time reprieve during both of her pregnancies, so her current situation rendered her pretty much outlawed in Gibbs-verse.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Stepping off the elevator and into the squadroom, Ziva found Gibbs leaning against McGee's desk - the one opposite hers - and sipping his morning coffee. Meanwhile, McGee was immersing himself into his computer. Giving the carrier in her hand a helpless look, Ziva approached them. She stopped at the entrance to the bullpen, facing her boss. Gibbs was unreadable, as always.

She huffed. "Before you say anything, I _know_ I am late…_again_. But I do have a good reason." Her eyes were wide with the need for explanation.

"As opposed to?", Gibbs retorted evenly.

"As opposed to… When I do not have one…a _good_ one", she answered tentatively.

"That one for me?", he asked, pointing at the Styrofoam cups in her hand.

"Yes, but obviously you already have-", she started and indicated the cup in his hand.

Gibbs, however, only nodded his head and clicked the lid off his cup, putting it on McGee's desk. Then he did the same with the cup in Ziva's carrier, took the now open cup and poured its black liquid contents into his the one in his hand. Then he put both lids back on the respective cups and took a small sip from the one he had just artistically albeit cumbersomely refilled.

"-one", Ziva ended quietly.

"Your reason?"

"I was absolutely positive that I was being watched and I was trying to find out by whom…and why", she elaborated quickly, realizing that her explanation had sounded far more plausible in her head just minutes ago in the elevator.

"Ah", Gibbs tilted his head, "In the meantime McGee's been trying to find our MIA-Corporal Kent."

"Without any luck so far, though", McGee perked up, adding upon Gibbs' glare, "Which is probably why you used the present perfect and not past tense, boss." He hastily returned to the task at hand.

"That something you have in common, Ziva?", Gibbs inquired, narrowing his eyes at her.

"If by that you mean whether I actually found anyone watching me, then your answer is no, I did not", she answered, staring back at him and holding her ground.

"You ready now to do your job and go look for people that are actually real?"

"Definitely", she returned blankly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Good", Gibbs smirked, "Director requested your language skills up in MTAC. Seeing as you already had a field day chasing imaginative friends, you'll have just as much fun playing Puppet Theater."

Ziva's jaw clenched but she didn't say anything. Usually, she could count on Gibbs warding off Vance's more enduring requests with one of his _'She's on my team'_-speeches, squirming her way out of tedious case reconciliations, Interpol reports and briefings. Gibbs took another sip and left for the elevator, pointing upstairs towards Director Vance's tightly smiling face with his coffee-clenching hand, his smirk hidden behind his back. Ziva nodded and placed her backpack behind her desk more violently than she had intended. She took the remaining two cups from the carrier, setting one down on McGee's desk.

"He is doing this to torture me, yes?", she asked tersely.

"Yeah, probably", McGee asserted blankly, taking the cup with a brief nod of appreciation, "And because Abby's taken the day off and we cannot find Kent, so there really isn't much to do right now."

"Really nothing yet?"

"No, I already checked Kent's phone records and bank statements. Didn't own a computer either", McGee informed her, clicking on his keyboard and showing the onscreen contents to Ziva, "They show the same repetitive pattern we found on Rivers'. Nothing unusual there."

Ziva detected the anxious note woven through McGee's tone of voice. "When is your meeting today?", she asked knowingly.

"At three", he sighed, giving her a half-hearted smile, "I would have stayed home too, you know, but I thought Gibbs wouldn't much appreciate half of his team calling it a red letter day and Abby said I was driving her nuts anyway, so…" Ziva looked on, smiling, while he resumed typing into his computer. "I'll be leaving at around two to- to, you know… Get ready…"

Ziva didn't say anything else, figuring her partner was obsessing enough without her prying, and left to go upstairs. Not long after she was gone, the weak vibrating of a phone caused McGee to look up. Looking around the bullpen he realized it was coming from Ziva's backpack. He quickly leapt over to her desk and retrieved her cell from the outside pocket. He glanced at the ID: Tali's preschool calling. His eyes briefly wandered to the upstairs landing. He knew better than to interrupt those MTAC meetings, but the incessant ringing rendered the call kind of urgent, so he eventually picked up.

"Ziva David's phone", he answered awkwardly.

"You aren't Ms. David", a female voice on the end asserted.

"No, no I'm not. Ms. David is currently in…uh…in a meeting. But this is her…colleague?"

"Oh, that's too bad. Is there any other way we could reach her or you could forward this call to her?"

"I'm afraid, that won't be possible. May I ask what this is about? Can I take a message maybe?"

"It concerns Ms. David's daughter, Talia DiNozzo?"

Immediately, alarm bells started going off in McGee's head. "Tali? What- What's wrong? Is she okay?", he blurted out.

"Yes, she is okay, but she threw up twice already during class. Somebody will have to get her. Do you know how we can reach her father? He is listed as an emergency contact but without stating a phone number."

"That's because her father's on the Spanish East Coast right now", McGee explained uneasily.

"Her nanny maybe, she's listed-"

"Me? I'm her Uncle. I mean, I'm not her _real_ Uncle, but- Timothy McGee. I should be on that list somewhere", he said. Ziva, in keen foresight, had practically put the whole of NCIS on both David and Tali's emergency contacts list.

"Yes…yes, you are."

"Would it be okay for me to come pick her up?"

"We will have to check for your ID, but very well then. If you really cannot get a hold of Ms. David-"

"No, better not. I'll be right there", McGee ended quickly. He put the cell on Ziva's desk and attached a note to it, fetched his car keys and off he went.

When Ziva returned to the bullpen almost an hour later in order to retrieve an old case file, McGee was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she found a note sticking on her desk saying _'Tali sick. Gone to get her.'_ She quickly checked the caller log on her cell phone, finding the number of Tali's preschool as the last incoming call from just fifty-two minutes ago. A feeling of dread washed over her that didn't get the chance to even reach her toes when suddenly distant wails and muffled yells started filling the squadroom. As the familiar ding announced the opening elevator doors, eyes and ears of the entire floor turned to the ongoing fight between McSenior-Field-Agent and his acquired niece. Recognizing the screams to be her daughter's, Ziva hurried towards the elevator.

Her eyes widened. McGee's features were contorted in silent pain as the three-year-old in his arms kicked and screamed, aiming her blows at his face and chest. He was breathlessly begging her to stop. "McGee?", Ziva called out incredulously.

Ziva was standing beside them in a flash, her hands immediately grabbing her daughter's. This caused Tali to stop for a second, look over and notice her mother standing right beside her. Instantly, the little girl's arms flew out towards Ziva. Ziva gently lifted her daughter from McGee's death grip and Tali gladly settled down in Ziva's embrace, burying her ongoing sniffles in Ziva's neck. Ziva was stroking her daughter's back soothingly, worry and affection radiating from a loving mother's attempt at calming her daughter, but the way she was glaring at McGee told the story of an entirely different person.

"I…I…you were in MTAC with Vance. I- I couldn't have- I picked up your phone and-", he stammered, his back pressed against the elevator wall. Her eyes narrowed at him menacingly, her unfaltering gaze a mixture of disbelief and fury. "I just wanted to help", he exclaimed between sharp intakes of breath.

"Help, McGee?", she retorted curtly, her eyes drifting to her sniffling daughter, but her features visibly softened. He knew she appreciated the gesture, but help did never go over well with Ziva when succeeding with the intention and misguided help most commonly ended in threats of bodily harm. Ziva had certainly softened over the years altogether, but inside she couldn't deny her hot-tempered nature.

When she finally strode off into the direction of the elevator on the other side of the bullpen, Tali tightly clinging to her, McGee heaved an exhausted sigh and took another minute or two to recollect himself before he went back to the bullpen and sat down at his desk. Who could have known that a sick Tali would be everything but delighted to see anybody but her mother? Ziva recognized that hidden little fallacy in McGee's well-intentioned plan, but she kept the flicker of a smile that appeared on her face to herself. She knew she had every right to be furious, seeing as he could have at least told her - no matter his good intentions -, but then again, this was McGee _and_ he had planted an all too amusing picture of himself fighting a three-year-old in her head. That alone was worth a grin or two.

Stepping off the elevator, Ziva prayed Palmer wasn't working on any bodies right now, but she was anxious to get a preliminary diagnosis on her daughter's condition and Tali's face was still firmly buried in the crook of her neck, so she had to take her chances. When the double doors shifted open, however, she found Ducky sitting at his old desk, clad into his normal street clothes. Turning around at the familiar sound, Ducky's eyes widened when they fell on mother and daughter entering the autopsy room.

"Ducky", Ziva exclaimed, surprised to see him.

"Yes, my dear", he got up, a slow smile forming on his lips, "I'm afraid, I am quite taken with your current case of investigation, finding myself gravitating to its evolving core like a moth to the flame, although presently… It is the _ear_ that is more fascinating to me than the flame. Be that as it may, to what do I owe this most endearing visit?"

Ziva was actually relieved to see the older man as she felt more comfortable with Ducky. He had always been trustworthy, had always handled the sad knowledge he had obtained by way of examining her after the happenings of Somalia with the utmost care and subtlety. "It is not a social call actually", Ziva started, her voice divulging urgency, "Tali has fallen ill-"

"And you would like a preliminary examination, I gather?", Ducky smiled benevolently, stepping closer to the pair.

"Yes, if it is not too much to ask", Ziva posed cautiously, her eyes pleading with him nonetheless.

"Oh, not at all. Not at all", Ducky waved off, reaching for a new pair of latex gloves from the table next to them, "But I must urge you to seek out Tali's pediatrician in case of a more serious condition."

"Of course, Ducky", Ziva assured him definitely, "Thank you."

He motioned for the nearest autopsy table. "You may want to sit down."

Ziva nodded and did as she was told. Tali had yet to utter a word, still holding onto Ziva tightly with her arms and legs wrapped around her. Ziva was drawing circles on Tali's back, cooing and speaking softly in Hebrew to her as Ducky prepared the necessary medical devices from the bag he had always kept in the storage room for precisely such occasions. Ducky then took a stand in front of them, nodding at Ziva.

"Tateleh?", Ziva spoke gently, looking down at her daughter, "Will you let Uncle Ducky look at you? He wants to find out what is making you sick."

Tali eyed her mother suspiciously for a moment, then her eyes diverted to Ducky, standing before her with a stethoscope at the ready. She shook her head no and pressed her head firmly against Ziva's shoulder. Ziva sighed. Tali was generally terrified of doctors and everything surrounding them. It had taken her pediatrician two years to find the right tactic, but she would usually be comfortable enough around Ducky.

"Bevakasha, tateleh?", Ziva coaxed, caressing her daughter's cheek, "Maher', zeh hakol."

Tali eventually complied, feeling too tired to resist much longer anyway. Ziva turned the little girl around in her lap, so that she was facing Ducky, and knowingly took both her daughter's hands in hers. Ducky's examination didn't take long, and he adroitly kept Tali preoccupied with ticking off a mental list of questions the little girl answered mostly with nodding or shaking her head. At times the more unpleasant parts of the check-up caused the little girl to whimper or tighten her grip on her mother's hands, but Ziva kept whispering soothing words into her ear.

When Ducky took a step back, declaring his exam to be over, Tali fell back against her mother. Ziva wrapped her arms around her daughter and kissed her temple. "Tov me'od, neshomeleh", she muttered, smiling encouragingly. Then she looked up expectantly at Ducky.

"There is no cause for worry, Ziva", he smiled, his even tone of voice very reassuring to her, "She has a touch of the stomach flu, but nothing gravely serious. She will need a lot of rest. Keep her hydrated and monitor her temperature. If it should rise too high, a visit to the hospital will be in order, otherwise over-the-counter children's medicine should suffice for the time being."

"Thank you so much, Ducky", Ziva declared earnestly, relief reflecting in her dark eyes as she got up.

"Don't mention it", he said, leaning over a little to caress Tali's cheek. Lying limply in Ziva's arms, however, the little girl failed to respond. Ducky wished her a quick recovery nonetheless, assuring Ziva twice that she could call him regardless of the time of day in case anything should worry her.

It was funny, more often than not, the times her Mossad training kicked in the most efficiently were times she hadn't been trained for, hadn't been groomed for. Right now, Ziva's ability to stay calm and lucid kept her following a definite plan of action even though she should have freaked out - and she could have for no one would have blamed her. Rather than freaking out, however, Ziva stepped back onto the elevator with an already half-asleep Tali in her arms and went directly to the upmost floor. She followed the walkway and stepped through the door on the opposite side. Immediately, her eyes met with the woman's behind the desk.

"Yes, Cynthia?", Director Vance's voice responded instantly via intercom to Cynthia's buzz.

"Agent David is having…a _situation_ here, Sir", Cynthia explained benevolently, smiling swiftly at Ziva.

Vance didn't answer, however, instead the door to Ziva's left opened and the Director looked at her through narrowed eyes. "A family situation, it seems", he assessed evenly.

Ziva stared back at him. Up until now Vance had been comparatively understanding of Ziva's occasional family crisis, having a family of his own after all. Contrary to common belief, however, Vance had known Ziva even longer than he knew Gibbs - and Gibbs knew him. Part of his occupational career at NCIS had been to retain strong ties to foreign agencies, Mossad among them. There, his principal contact had been the head of Mossad's _Political Action and Liaison Department_ of that time, one Eli David. As a matter of fact, Leon Vance had known Ziva David as just another little girl in Tel Aviv who sat still and looked pretty at her papa's dinner receptions.

"So, scuttlebutt tells me our MCRT's Senior Field Agent found his nemesis in a three-year-old little girl?", he smiled, tilting his head.

"I am afraid so, yes", Ziva answered, hoisting Tali a little higher as the little girl grew heavier in her arms.

"Stomach flu?", he inquired knowingly and added upon Ziva's questioningly raising eyebrows, "Kayla's been staying home for three days already."

"I was wondering if Tali could lie down in your office until I can get a hold of her nanny?", Ziva posed tentatively.

"I'll be fielding joint assessments in MTAC for the rest of the day, but I'm sure Cynthia will be happy to keep an eye on your daughter while I'm gone", he suggested.

Cynthia nodded her approval and Ziva thanked them both before she followed Vance into his office and put Tali down on the couch on the far side of the room. Tali's eyes were already drifting shut when Ziva carefully draped a coat over the little girl that Vance handed her with a good-natured smile on his face. Speaking softly in Hebrew, Ziva coaxed her into staying in those rather unfamiliar surroundings. While David would stay in Vance's office from time to time, so he could work on his homework away from the squadroom's bustle, Tali never actually spent her time at NCIS anywhere but in the bullpen or Abby's lab. Ziva attributed Tali's unusually quick compliance mostly to her being sick in the first place, though. She promised to look in on her as often as possible and stayed for another half an hour until the three-year-old had finally succumbed to sleep.

Since Vance assured her he didn't need her up in MTAC anymore, Ziva returned to the bullpen. McGee looked up when she entered, but Ziva didn't even so much as glance at him. She took to running a broad facial recognition search with a picture of Corporal Kent while McGee continued on his name and background checking - an icy silence settling firmly between them. McGee found himself look over at Ziva from time to time, words hanging on his lips, but he re-shut his mouth each time without saying anything.

Over an hour later Gibbs was leaning on the upstairs landing, his hands folded in mid-air, watching the withering silence between his two agents in the squadroom below. He had been standing there for twenty minutes straight, a soft and knowing smile playing on his lips. He saw Ziva glancing at her watch incessantly. He saw her heaving sigh after sigh. He saw her lifting herself up from her chair again and again just to be pulled back down by e-mails and phone calls. As it turned out, Sarah had come down with the flu as well and couldn't come to take Tali home. Gibbs could practically feel Ziva's apprehension and frustration. Having Tali upstairs while they were working a case, let alone sick and yearning for her mommy to make it better, was far more torture than he could have ever inflicted on her for being late. Tilting his head to the side, he eventually turned on his heel and headed straight for the Director's office. He gave Cynthia a quick nod and entered the empty office, closing the door behind him. Tali was still lying on the couch with Vance's coat on top of her. Her eyes were half-open as she had awoken from her nap a few minutes ago, her hands folded beneath her head.

"Hey there, little girl", Gibbs called out softly, crouching down next to her, "Someone told me you weren't feeling well. He right?" The little girl merely nodded her head, her usual _Unca 'ibbs!_-enthusiasm missing completely.

He brushed some fallen curls away from her forehead and leaned in closer, whispering solicitously, "Now, what can we do to make it better?" She looked at him pleadingly, her dark brown eyes missing their usual color. _Better_ was the operative word right now for everything.

"I bet you want your mommy, huh princess?", he inquired, smiling a knowing smile. Tali nodded her head again, a little more decidedly this time around. "And I bet you want your mommy to take you home and tuck you in, right?" Another nod.

"Yeah, I know how you feel", Gibbs mused, tracing his index finger along the side of her hand, "I promise, you can go home really soon, okay?" She kept staring at him, trying to decide if she wanted to believe him or not.

"Do you think your Uncle Gibbs can make your mommy come and take you home?", he tilted his head to the side, smiling at her cunningly. Tali nodded again, even trying to mirror his smile.

"Good call, princess", Gibbs leaned over and placed a small kiss on the little girl's temple, "Everything will be okay, trust me." He straightened back up.

Suddenly Tali's faint whisper caused him to linger for another second, "Da boss." She smiled meekly.

"That's right, I'm the boss", he confirmed, winking at the little girl.

When Gibbs turned to leave, Vance was standing in the doorway to his office. A vague smile was tugging at his lips. "Seems you'll be stranded without a team today, Gibbs", he asserted.

"Gives _us_ a chance to do some catchin' up, Leon", Gibbs retorted, passing Vance a quick smirk on his way out. Vance chuckled slightly and nodded.

* * *

"That guy's just as much a nobody as Rivers", McGee exclaimed exasperatedly, falling back against his chair, "Those two are like real-life burn identities." After jointly tongue-lashing a local bank's incompetence at issuing the monthly footage of their ATMs' video surveillance cameras, Ziva and McGee had unanimously and silently declared their brief disagreement over and had started talking to each other again a few minutes ago.

"Silent treatment's over?", Gibbs inquired with a smile, marching into the bullpen just in time to catch McGee's last statement.

"Well, you know what they say about the purpose of black sheep", Ziva retorted.

McGee's head jerked up immediately from where he had re-buried it in his computer, "What-"

"Make you distinguish the white ones", Gibbs resolved quickly, stepping up to McGee's desk and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Boss, we've been running the full background check on Corporal Kent all day", McGee lunged into the sit rip and conjured up records, lease documents, personnel files and other data on the plasma next to his desk, "Same story as Rivers'."

"It does somewhat explain why they took to each other", Ziva assessed derisively, cueing her acquired intel.

"Doesn't explain why he's missing, though", Gibbs mused, taking a step to the side to stand in front of the plasma.

"What we have found, however, is _why_ nobody is missing Corporal Kent", McGee perked up, fetching the remote on his way to take the place next to Gibbs, "The Corporal was due to embark on a three-week leave starting Monday. And given that the only acquaintance we know of was Sergeant Rivers and Rivers was killed Sunday evening…"

Ziva turned up on Gibbs' other side, motioning for McGee to click the remote and summon Kent's CV. The picture on his records showed a sturdy young man with short, light brown hair and indiscernably colored eyes. "Pristine service record. He grew up in an orphanage outside Washington after his mother turned him over to the system upon birth. He remained in the orphanage and its in-house schooling unit until the age of eighteen when he volunteered for the Marine Corps. According to orphanage executives Kent has never made a move to get the information on his birth parents unsealed, he has never made contact with any biological next of kin."

"No additional leases to his apartment, no driver's license, no non-military memberships, no criminal record", McGee listed, swiftly clicking through statements, "Nothing."

"Well, what're you still doing here then?", Gibbs asked bluntly, walking back over to his desk.

Both McGee and Ziva twirled around to stare incredulously at their boss. "But do you not want-", Ziva started.

Gibbs broke her off, "Don't you have a sick daughter upstairs?"

"Don't you think we should-", McGee tried.

"And don't _you_ have an adoption agency to charm, elf lord?", Gibbs cut in again, turning to his Senior Field Agent.

Ziva and McGee looked at each other, both mulling the state of their case over in their heads. They had hit a dead end. Both were inching closer to their respective bags, still looking between each other and their boss. Gibbs, however, had settled down comfortably in his chair behind his desk and watched their uneasiness with raised eyebrows and his face as blank as ever. Maybe a free weekend would spike their inspiration. Gibbs at least seemed to think so, or so they thought. They threw their coats on and their backpacks over their shoulders almost simultaneously, still unsure and flabbergasted at the same time. Taking a step away from their respective desks, they eventually stood facing each other. While McGee turned to bid his boss goodbye - a gesture to which Gibbs responded with a small wave -, Ziva asked McGee to tell Abby to call her. Then they hesitantly walked off into opposite directions, McGee towards the elevator and Ziva upstairs.

Momentarily left alone in the bullpen, Gibbs let his gaze roam this most familiar place. Much had changed since he had first taken a seat behind the desk that now was McGee's and had been Tony's before that. He remembered the fight he had had with Vance, refusing to write the third placement on his team out for grabs. Gibbs knew many a fine agent had appealed to Vance ever since, but Vance knew Gibbs would have never accepted a new member, not anymore. He wasn't going to be with NCIS too long anymore and whoever took his place would get to compose his or her own team, untapped by any of Gibbs' last-minute choices. He had had an A-Team, side-stepped the B-Team and returned to his A-Team over the years up until the point of reducing it by one. The last time he had downright refused change in his team had been around the time of Somalia, when Ziva's position had been open. Just like now and for the last two years, they had managed with short-time replacements, occasional help and they had managed just fine. Maybe some part of Gibbs was still hoping he would get his A-Team back to gold-star-status at some point before his retirement, but Gibbs usually refrained from delving into cautious wishes.

He watched Ziva come down the stairs, whispering softly to Tali who was safely wrapped into her arms with her head buried in the crook of her mother's neck once more. She stopped to look at him. "See you Sunday", Gibbs called out easily.

Ziva heaved a sigh. "Gibbs, I do not think we can come Sunday. With Tali sick… I do not want to take her outside if I can-"

"Now, I didn't tell you to come by _my_ place, did I?" He smirked, giving her a small wave of his hand. A sly smile flickered across Ziva's face and she nodded her okay.

* * *

**502 Canvas Road and Clark's - Gavington Elementary School**

Ziva was certainly not your typical PTA mom. Not that she wouldn't have tried and endured mindless chatter about front lawn mowing and dinner parties - for that's about as far as her imagination of such meetings would go - if her children's schooling really required her to but thankfully, it didn't, at least not yet. In the upside-down world of Ziva David, she had always found it harder to talk about the day-to-day routines, the everyday normalcy. She had always found it harder to converse with people whose world she deemed too small and too overbearing, people who - she sometimes envied them even - had not seen what she had seen about a world that was insufferably bigger and out-of-control. But she managed as a 'ninja-version' of your typical soccer-mom, inclusively with SIG, ankle backup and knife strapped to the waist.

When the faint clanging of school bells jerked her from her thoughts, Ziva sighed. The day had been long for it to be only fifteen hours old. For a fleet second she indulged in a small wish. She wished to have her life partner here with her, she wished Tony could have just taken their daughter home to dote on her while she was free to do her job first and then come home to soothe the three-year-old through a restless night. Ziva looked at Tali in the rearview mirror, the little girl sleeping contently in the booster seat behind her. Ziva turned around and gave her a quick, vigilante glance before getting out of the car. She took off her sunglasses and put them into her hair to get a better look at the school entrance. Her trained eyes immediately fell on her son and a certain someone that appeared to be his class teacher already approaching her.

David took the last few steps a little faster than his teacher and hurried into his mother's awaiting hug with a smile on his face. She bent down a little and kissed the top of his head. "Shalom, tateleh", she smiled, once again glad that he had still not entered the phase where he would be embarrassed by open motherly affection.

Granted, he tried to be, tried to be brave and strong and self-dependent whenever people were close by who he wanted to have just that impression of him: Gibbs, Ducky, Director Vance and pretty much every other member of NCIS - even Tony. Abby and McGee had long proven to be the honorable exceptions. But he made curious exceptions, occasions when he just didn't care for a façade or an act and being picked up after a long school day by his mom was exclusively one of them.

His teacher, Ms. Miller, stood by and smiled benevolently. Ziva turned towards her and extended her hand, the smile still playing on her lips, "Good afternoon. Ziva David."

"Janet Miller, your son's class teacher", she smiled at the six-year-old, who had turned around to stand next to his mother.

"Is there a reason for your entourage?", Ziva asked bluntly, not in the mood for a long parent-teacher one-on-one after a day like this, only the thought of going home, settling Tali down for the night and enjoying some calming quality time with her son on her mind right now.

"Yes, yes there is actually", Ms. Miller answered, folding her hands in front of her body, "Did David not mention the family chart at home?"

All those years in the U.S. and Ziva still found herself irritated at least once a day by colloquialisms or people's incessant determination to invent catchphrases for the simplest of things. "Pardon my ignorance, but what exactly _is_ a family chart?", Ziva asked, her brows furrowing noticeably.

"We had each of the kids draw their closest family and asked them to add details to their drawing with information about each family member they wanted to share with the class", Ms. Miller elaborated, keeping a tight hold on that benevolent smile.

"Yes", Ziva nodded, "And why would they want that?" This triggered a small grin on David's face that went unseen by Ms. Miller but not his mother.

"I gather you didn't know that David was supposed to finish his chart at home?"

"No, I am afraid, I did not ", Ziva asserted, trying to fight her irritation's loyal wish to creep into her voice.

"David turned up with an empty chart today."

"I would think then that he did not wish to share any kind of information about his family with the class", Ziva clarified simply, the initial smile on her face slowly fading. Instead, she gave David's shoulder a light squeeze.

"But the assignment was-"

"I do not doubt that the assignment was very clear to David", Ziva explained kindly, her smile once again mounting to its full sweetness, "It would stand to reason that he has a good explanation for fulfilling the assignment the way he did." Ziva turned to look down at David who was already staring up at her, a questioning look on his face. She winked at him and nodded.

Reassured that his mom would back his complete honesty, the six-year-old turned towards his teacher's awaiting gaze and plainly stated, "No one's gotta know everything." Ziva couldn't help being reminded of one of Gibbs' need-to-know remarks and couldn't quite shake off the feeling that David was really only quoting his Uncle Gibbs anyway.

"I am sure you will understand-", Ziva inserted quickly, before Ms. Miller could open her mouth in protest, "-that his was indeed a legit way of doing your assignment. But I will be happy to provide any kind of information on our family that you might need." Ziva looked at the woman who seemed distinctly older than her but whose short, pudgy build and curly brunette hair, Ziva noticed, might have rendered her older than she actually was. Ziva seized her with an expectant gaze, a smile still firmly set on her face.

"Very well then", Ms. Miller relented, "I guess, I'll have to be clearer with my assignments with this one in the future."

Her eyes quickly twitched between Ziva and David, mirroring Ziva's smile. Ziva nodded and turned to her son. "Can you buckle yourself in?", she requested pointedly, gesturing towards the other side of the back seat where Tali wasn't sleeping, "Do try to be quiet. Your sister is sleeping." He nodded and rounded the car under Ziva's watchful eyes. Then she turned back to the teacher who had been looking on unwearyingly.

"David is a very private person. He gets that from me", Ziva stated frankly, folding her hands in front of her body, "I hope you will understand."

"Certainly", Ms. Miller nodded, appearing earnest to Ziva's suspiciously narrowed eyes, "You have a daughter too?"

Even though Ziva was very keen on ending the conversation, she still nodded proudly, both women glancing through the car window at the back seat, where David was watching his sister curiously. "Tali. She's three."

"Tali?"

"Yes. Talia actually, a Jewish name."

"You're from Israel, right?"

Albeit getting the growing impression of this turning into the family-enlightenment her son had so forcefully refused to provide, Ziva answered patiently, "I was born and raised in Tel Aviv, yes. I came to America on a work-related basis." As the conversation could only spin into a direction Ziva had no desire to elaborate on - work or Tony or both - she was quick to add, "But I do have to go now. My daughter has come down with the flu and I still need to get her medications." She tried her best to let her smile turn out apologetic. Her many years of experience in lying were obviously paying off as they were soon bidding their goodbyes and Ziva was back behind the steering wheel on their way home.

"Where are we going?", David asked immediately from the back seat when they didn't turn the familiar corner back to NCIS headquarters but kept going straight ahead.

"I have the rest of the day off. We are going home", Ziva smiled, taking a glance into the rearview mirror and at the look of contention that was settling on her son's face.

* * *

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

David unlocked the door to the apartment seeing as Ziva was carrying a sleeping Tali as well as her backpack. "Will you start with your homework? I will just put Tali down in my room", she whispered after her son, who was already emptying the contents of his backpack onto the living room floor. He nodded without looking up.

Situations like these, when illnesses or a crisis at work were turning their day-to-day life even more into an inventive act of coordination, were an almost painful reminder that she was basically a single mother. Having a son like David, however, helped in more than one way. He had an uncanny way of knowing when to let it be and comply. Ziva knew that he was putting others - especially her and his sister - before himself whenever he felt he needed to. That's why, despite all her appreciation for that character trait of his, she always promised herself she would make it up to him one way or another.

Ziva decided against waking Tali by putting her into her night clothes and just took off her jeans to make her more comfortable before tucking her in. She expected a sleepless night with her sick daughter anyhow. It would have been no use depriving the little girl even of a second of peaceful slumber just as it would have been no use putting Tali down in her own bed as she would end only up in Ziva's at one point or another. On her way out she left the door open, knowing that Tali would wake up eventually. After all, it was only _a quarter to four in the afternoon._

Entering the kitchen, Ziva found David already sitting at the table, carefully scribbling on a piece of paper. She came up behind him and peeked over his shoulder. She scanned over his writing and put a finger on what she realized was a wrong calculation. He followed her hint and noticed his mistake with a dramatic sigh that reminded Ziva distinctly of Tony. "What would you like to have for lunch?", she asked, bending over him just enough so that he could look up at her with his head tilted back.

"S'ghetti?", he answered with a sheepish grin, knowing right well that they had just had them for dinner three days ago.

"Spaghetti it is", Ziva complied instantly, kissing the top of his head.

Before she started on lunch she swiftly checked the medicine cabinet, relieved to find everything Tali would need for when she woke up. Then she decided, now that she had the afternoon off anyway, that she would make the pasta from scratch once again. The kitchen stayed silent except for the sporadic clanging of plates or cutlery in pans or David's growl at realizing a mistake he had made. Ziva joined him from time to time to check on his progress or to answer an occasional questions. When he started drawing Ziva found it save to occupy part of his attention with talking.

"Why did you not tell me about the family chart?", she asked casually, adding noodles to the boiling water.

David looked up from his picture-in-progress and answered easily, "Nothing to tell."

She glanced over and returned his smile before both went back to their primary occupation, the kitchen falling silent once again. When both noodles and pasta were no more than needing to cool, however, Ziva went over to her son and kneeled down beside his chair. "Why did you not want to tell your class about your family?", she inquired, her voice merely a little curious.

David stopped drawing for a second, the wheels in his head turning before he replied, "I donno… I don't like them knowing everything, I guess."

"Is there maybe something special you do not want them to know?", Ziva pressed on carefully, the question having been bothering her ever since the conversation in the parking lot.

David finally put his crayon down and turned to look at his mother, "How d'ya mean?"

"I just thought that maybe something is troubling you…or confusing you. And that is why you did not want to tell them anything?", Ziva shrugged, raising her eyebrows.

David, however, shook his head decidedly, "I just don't want them to know everything about me."

"I can understand that", Ziva smiled, nodding her head, "But you know that some people are worth knowing more about you, yes?" Now it was his turn to nod his head.

Ziva had actually had the minor suspicion that Tony working in Spain might have caused her son's reluctance to turn in the full assignment. Now, absent or part-time fathers or mothers weren't exactly the odd and confidential occurrence anymore, but Ziva thought that, maybe, Tony's absence in their day-to-day life might have been confusing their son to the extent of not knowing or not daring to share that bit of information with his class. Then again, the thought had crossed her mind that he might not have known how to include his NCIS-extended family into the mix, but she doubted he would have had reservations about that.

Ziva mirrored his keen smile. "Tov."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Vance was sitting at the big mahogany conference table in his office, reading an initial case report that had just fallen onto his desk by way of hand-delivery from the case's chief investigator. One and the same was leaning back in his chair across the table from the Director, drawing circles on a coaster with the snifter of bourbon in his hand. They sat in silence for some more minutes until Vance flipped the file shut and put it on the table next to his glass of iced water.

"Short version, we have two Marines, one dead and one missing. And we have three body parts in different locations that don't add up to a specific pattern", Vance assessed evenly, folding his hands atop the table and giving Gibbs a curious look.

"Yeah, that's about right", Gibbs nodded, taking a sip from his bourbon.

"Body parts the same DNA?"

Gibbs didn't look up, instead he watched the lubricous auburn liquid curtain the inside of his glass. "The hand's and the ear's match up. No usable tissue on the eyeball."

"Any hits?"

"No", Gibbs replied curtly, "Ear still needs processing, though."

"Slow case, ain't it?", Vance inquired plainly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Seems like it", Gibbs asserted, tilting his head to the side and taking another sip, "Preoccupation's a bitch, Leon."

"Don't I know it…", Vance mused, "You letting them off the hook that easily? You're getting soft, Gibbs?"

Gibbs smiled slyly, lifting his head to gaze out of the big bay window behind Vance's desk. "Myself, never quite got the hang of fly-fishing."

"Spearing?"

"Trapping."

"Since when?"

"Since my back won't let me sit still in a boat for hours on end anymore." Gibbs smirked.

Vance returned the smirk knowingly and got up from his chair. He went over to his desk and put the file down on top of the _'in progress'_-stack of paper. "Got a call from Paris today, Europe H.O."

Gibbs nodded, finally emptying his glass, and gently placed it back dead-center on the coaster. He got up as well. "How's he doing?"

"Drivin' them crazy", Vance stated evenly, a pointed glisten in his eyes, "Gotta be doin' _something_ right then."

Gibbs chuckled lightly and opened the door. "DiNozzo style", Gibbs declared with a smile and left the office, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The street surrounding them was dark, no one and nothing around. Wherever they were, it was positively abandoned except for them: three men, one a fair share shorter than the other two, looking into different directions of the missing sun. It appeared as if they didn't know each other. And really, they actually didn't. What they needed to know about each other, they knew, but nothing more - and nothing less.

The dark-haired man wore only a leather jacket over his shirt. He finally turned towards the older man beside him who wore a green military west, his eyes narrowed to defensive slits. "I told you it was impossible", the younger man growled, his blue eyes gleaming menacingly at the older man.

"Just checkin'", the man in the military west and with the graying hair retorted, a slack smile playing on his lips.

"Be glad I was in town to get supplies or she would have without a doubt _seen _you."

"She wasn't even onto me. She was shopping", the older man sneered, shoving his face directly into the other man's.

"And that is where you are wrong", the blue-eyed man declared, narrowing his eyes, "If I had not come in time she would have-"

"What? She would've _what_?"

"Please, boys, behave yourselves", the shorter one of the three cut in forcefully, his voice cunningly even and calm. His green eyes jumped between the two antagonizing men. "We have what we need. Or rather… We have what _you_ needed, don't we?"

The other two glared at one another for one more moment, then turned away from each other. The blue-eyed man nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips, "That we do."

* * *

_YOUR review can savour creative cells, a flick of your finger and a little outpour of words can make your friendly author-ess very happy :) Thank you._


	11. Not only for Myself

**Chap 11 ****Not only for Myself**

_Saturday, November 9__th__ 2018_

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Ziva tapped the faucet violently. She shook her head at herself. Sometimes even she herself had a hard time comprehending the paradox that was her life. She could defuse bombs, handle several weapons at the same time and fight completely outnumbered, yet she had just burnt her fingers on the waffle iron. Letting the cool water run over her right hand, she sighed. Her mind was dangerously preoccupied, it seemed. Could be, however, she simply was more tired than she liked to admit to herself. She had been up since five-ish in the morning - that is, actually _counting _the many hours of semi-sleep with a sick daughter beside her. Tali hadn't slept for two hours straight all throughout the night, her stuffy nose and a beginning fever constantly keeping the little girl awake. For a woman who liked to be in control, a sick child meant a fair share of feeling powerless. An illness they had to fight themselves, an illness wasn't something Ziva could just make go away or scare off. She could help them alright, soothe them, hold them, give them their meds - but an illness was something she couldn't just relieve them of.

She finally turned off the water and examined her hand. Yes, she certainly had been burnt far worse than that in the past and more than once too. When her eyes fell on a small blister forming on the tip of her index finger, Ziva was swept up in a memory, memories she tried so hard to suppress every day of her life, step-by-step like a former addict deciding to stay sober every day anew. The sickening stench of burnt skin started foiling her nostrils, the piercing pain of red-hot metal on human flesh shot through her abdomen, the sizzling of burnt body hair hissed in her ears. That one blister was nothing compared to how some of those scars on her back had come about.

Ziva had been so caught up in past images that she hadn't noticed David entering the kitchen. Granted, he had been careful to be as quiet as possible, knowing or at least sensing that his mother and sister had had a rough night. Ziva was only alerted to her son's presence when he slung his arms around her middle while her back had been turned towards the door.

"Boker tov, tateleh", Ziva spoke softly, relieved by how she had been snapped out of her reminiscent reverie. She put her arms around him and started rocking him slightly from one side to the other.

Her preoccupation with a sick Tali meant a fair lack of attention given to her little boy - a downside he seemed to take rather unperturbedly as far as the looks of it went. Despite his understanding exterior, however, Ziva knew that he was by all means only six years old, a little boy who craved the attention that which she usually tried so very hard to divide equitably between her two children. Sometimes, though, they both simply had to do with a morning hug that lasted well beyond its habitual expiry date.

Ziva leaned over and kissed the top of his head before she squatted down in front of him, keeping a tight hold on his hands. "Your breakfast is on the table. I just need to take this up to your sister and then I will be right back to join you, yes?" She nodded towards the counter.

"'kay."

"Todah rabbah, neshomeleh", she whispered, kissing his cheek.

She watched him take his seat at the table before she straightened back up and took the glass of water and the thermometer up to her room. When she stepped through the door Tali was, as she had expected, half awake. The little girl had been battling semi-consciousness when Ziva had last checked on her a couple of minutes ago. One could clearly see that Tali was sick. Usually, her dark curls would be bouncing on her shoulders as the little girl would bounce off the walls, her eyes would be glimmering with future mischief, her face would be beaming with a persistent smile. Right now, she appeared choked up by the sheets and her pillow, burying herself deep in their softness. Her face looked dim and gloomy. One hand was clasping Shim, the fingers of her free hand were raised to her lips.

When the little girl's eyes settled on her, Ziva smiled reassuringly. "Mommy", Tali called out to her weakly.

Ziva quickly put the things down on the nightstand. "I am here, tateleh. Mommy's right here", Ziva assured her gently, sitting down on the front end of the bed next to her daughter, and smoothed back some of Tali's wayward sweaty curls.

Tali instantly abandoned Shim and put her head into her mother's lap, grabbing whatever part of Ziva's nightgown was grazing her little fingers. Ziva resumed brushing her hand through the little girl's hair, putting some of it behind her ear. After some time Ziva turned to retrieve the thermometer, which was immediately met by faint whimpering. "Shshsh… Come here, tateleh", Ziva whispered, lifting Tali carefully from the bed and settling the little girl down in her lap. Tali slung her arms around Ziva's neck at once, hiding her face. Ziva arranged the blanket around them, so that Tali wouldn't freeze in the cool of the morning, drawing soothing circles on the little girl's back with her free hand.

"Tali, look at me, please."

"Mommy, no", Tali whined quietly, shaking her head adamantly against Ziva's shoulder.

"Bevakasha, Tali."

Ziva tried prying the little girl away from her just far enough to gain access to her daughter's mouth while whispering soothing words, some Hebrew, some English. Tali eventually gave up, feeling too tired to fight her mother's lasting determination, and opened her mouth obediently. Ziva put some fallen strands of hair away from the three-year-old's forehead and brushed a kiss against it. It felt warm against her lips. "Todah, tateleh. Yihyeh beseder", she mumbled, looking intently into her daughter's drowsily blurry eyes.

At the familiar bleeping, Ziva took the thermometer out of Tali's mouth. The temperature blinking on its display was a little higher than usual but not upsetting enough to warrant a visit to the emergency room. Tali fell lazily back against her mother, coughing weakly. Ziva took the glass of water from the nightstand and held it expectantly to Tali's lips. Tali peeked up at her mother and, at Ziva's encouraging smile, took a few slow sips before slumping back into her initial position. Ziva uttered another _'Todah'_ and put her arms around her daughter, rocking them back and forth. It wasn't time for another round of medicine yet. The last time had taken Ziva half an hour of sweet-talking until Tali had been too weak to refuse anymore. Ziva started humming the Hebrew lullaby she had memorized in her own childhood - first from her own mother singing it to her and her siblings in that beautifully raspy voice that Ziva still remembered vividly enough, and then from singing it to her little sister Tali in an innocent attempt to evoke their mother's dead spirit. In a matter of heartbeats her little girl, the little girl she had named after her late baby sister, was asleep in her arms. Her breathing was labored and shallow against Ziva's skin. Ziva tilted her head so that her cheek was grazing Tali's warm forehead, breathing in her daughter's scent. Yes, definitely, she hated it when her children were sick, it was the hardest thing to watch them suffer - and Ziva had had enough suffering, seen and lived through, for more than one lifetime.

* * *

Ziva eventually left Tali to some much needed sleep, knowing that the little girl would wake up soon enough and the sick-circle would start anew. David had almost finished up his breakfast when Ziva joined him at the kitchen table. She briefly explained the kind and extent of Tali's illness to him and that he shouldn't go and see her for as long as she was still contagious. As always, Ziva asked him about his school day seeing as they hadn't gotten that far in their conversation the day before because Tali had woken up halfway through it. While Ziva had taken care of Tali, David had played by himself. Generally, finding things to do on his own wasn't unusual per se. Ziva tried to spend every free minute with both of her children, but sometimes she simply couldn't because one child needed more attention than the other or because of work. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing either. Ziva had grown up with two siblings in an environment where grown-ups and children had two very different and very seriously contoured spheres of activity and where children stepped over that line dividing those spheres very early - and not the other way around. In her humble opinion, being bored made for some great sources of inspiration for inventing new games. Still, contrary to her own upbringing, Ziva made a definite point of immersing herself into the world of her children, giving them all the attention they needed and wanted whenever she could. And she knew that David was in need of some one-on-one time, something she was very willing to provide too and if it was just for the sake of sitting there and listening and showing interest.

Consequently, he finally took to recounting the stories of his classmates' family-chart-projects, their families, their drawings, their presentations. Ziva was quite pleased to watch him lunge into agitated accounts of their family situations he appeared to remember amazingly well. He embellished the ones about his friends with even more detail, pondering what family member he had already met and what stories he had already heard about some of them. Watching him talk and gesticulate, throwing his whole body into his grand narratives, Ziva realized once again how often David granted his little sister center-stage and how much temperament there was hidden beneath his apparent serenity. She knew her son and she knew that his desire to be the center of attention was directly related to a feeling of security, and in light of her own childhood Ziva felt so immensely relieved her children could feel so safe, so protected that they could be themselves. When David started explaining how he would have done his project, that point was made even clearer.

As it seemed, he would have drawn the bullpen at NCIS headquarters. Even though he and Tali didn't spend too much of their time there, he still associated that place with family seeing as that's where they all were, that's where they all met. He would include his Auntie Abby and his Uncle McGee with a little no-name baby - yes, Ziva was quite surprised to hear he had picked up on Abby's and McGee's adoption Odyssey - standing in front of Uncle McGee's desk. Uncle Ducky would wear normal clothes, not his _'doctor clothes'_, because apparently he had given them to Jimmy. While Uncle Ducky would stand next to his Uncle Gibbs, who he would draw bigger than all the others because he always looked out for all of them, at Uncle Gibbs' desk, Jimmy would stand a little outside the bullpen. And in the middle of the picture there would have been his mom and dad and Tali and him. Ziva couldn't help but smile, David's idea for his family-chart telling her more about the life they were living than any detailed description ever would. That which that astonished her, however, was David mentioning a picture that he would have drawn Ziva holding.

"…and you hold the picture in your hand", David ended matter-of-factly.

Ziva's brows furrowed slightly. "What picture, tateleh?"

"You know, _the_ picture", he stressed, smiling at the questioning look Ziva still gave him, "The one of Dod Ari and Dodah Tali and you mommy when you are little."

Ziva was momentarily taken aback. She wouldn't have guessed that David actually counted his late and only biological Aunt and Uncle among his family members. It was bittersweet - just like everything concerning her siblings. Ziva had long come to terms with the fact that both Ari and Tali were but memories living inside of her - and she sometimes liked to think even inside of Eli.

The reason she sometimes imagined Eli thinking of his late children in that office in central Tel Aviv was simple yet complicated: Her Aunt Nettie had been the only family member Ziva had called in July 2012 to announce David's birth. Yet, a few days later a letter came, sent to NCIS and addressed to Ziva - in Hebrew. No sender. When she had opened the letter it had been only the fourth time for Ziva to have tears run down her face while at NCIS headquarters. Someone - and something told her it had been Eli, for whatever reason - had sent her the picture of Tali, Ari and her as small, innocent children standing on the street outside their mansion in Tel Aviv, holding each other's hands and smiling at the man behind the camera. It had been the only picture of all three of them together she had ever possessed, the picture she had deemed forever lost in that desert, that darn desert. She had taken the picture along on that mission in Somalia and she had put it into her backpack after she and Ben-Gidon had deep-sixed the _Damocles_, but that backpack and its contents had been burnt to ashes before her eyes after her capture. It had been like the resurrection of her memories when she had slipped its only copy from the envelope more than six years ago.

Now, that picture stood atop a shelf in the study, on the wall right across from the couch. From time to time Ziva would find herself sitting there and staring at that picture, imagining scenarios of a life that could have been - a life where a suicide bombing wouldn't have killed her sister, a life where Ari would have forever been her devoted big brother and not a callous monster, a life where Ziva wouldn't have had to shoot him. The stories she told David and Tali about their late Dod and Dodah were, of course, reduced to the happy memories she had of them, to the joyous accounts of their childhood together, to those simple moments when they had been allowed to have a childhood. Ziva hadn't realized, though, that David had inducted both of them into their family. She couldn't quite pinpoint how she felt about it too. Was it relief? Was it joy? Was it unease? She knew that she would have to tell her son the truth at some point in his life. Ziva hardly ever talked about her family in Israel, about her life before NCIS - even her life before Somalia. The kids were still too young, too innocent to be burdened with any of it. Ziva couldn't help but wonder if David's attitude towards his Dod Ari would change if he knew the truth. Then again, she couldn't help but wonder if her son's love for her would change if he knew that she, Ziva, had killed her own brother, had put _a 9x19mm Parabellum_ cartridge through his head - to save his Uncle Gibbs nonetheless.

Right now, however, when the doorbell rang and David looked at her expectantly, Ziva could only get up from her chair, drop a kiss on his head and leave to answer the door. She wiped at a small tear that threatened to fall, checking her meticulously masked face in the mirror, before opening the door to reveal Abby and McGee standing there, smiling.

"Howdy Ubald!", Abby greeted cheerfully, waving at a rather surprised Ziva.

"Hey there."

"Hello, you two." Ziva quickly ushered them in but couldn't help mirroring McGee's questioningly narrowed eyes.

Abby, realizing she was being stared at, explained simply, "Saint Ubald, patron saint of sick children. _One_ of the patron saints of sick children or child sickness as a matter of fact, there are more. But I like him the best. His full name's actually Saint Ubaldo of Gubbio…and I always thought his name sounded kinda cute, you know? Teddy-bear kinda cute. He's the patron saint of obsessive compulsive disorder too, so…" Ziva and McGee nodded knowingly in unison.

"Do not get me wrong, I am happy to see you. But were we expecting you?", Ziva asked tentatively from the doorway to the living room while McGee helped Abby strip herself from the abundance of mittens, gloves, hats and coats she was wearing.

"Nope, you weren't", McGee asserted definitely.

"But we thought you could use some help and company with a sick child around. And we're not afraid of germs", Abby elaborated with a smile, "At least _I'm _not afraid of germs. Macho-McGee over there is a chicken, but he's totally submissive to my command-"

"Think of Abby as the Goth Piper luring chicken in like rats and you'll get the picture", McGee added dryly, tilting his head to the side.

"Ah", Ziva's eyes widened in realization; thank God for reading traditional fairytales with Tali almost every night at bedtime.

David had been ecstatic to see them. A few minutes later Abby and Ziva were sitting around the kitchen island drinking coffee - that is, Abby drinking coffee and Ziva drinking her tea -, watching McGee and David play Pirates in the living room. As it turned out, David and McGee were opposing pirate captains, using both the couch and the coffee table as their ships and several of David's toys as their imaginative props. Ziva noticed the wistful smile that had settled on Abby's face as they followed the little game of pretence and McGee throwing himself into his appointed role of pirate lord.

"He is going to be a great father", Ziva observed.

"Coming here was actually Tim's idea", Abby confessed with a smile, finally tearing her eyes away from her life partner and their nephew-of-choice, "I thought bothering you might be a bad idea after what happened yesterday."

"Oh, Abby", Ziva sighed, a wry smile forming on her lips as well, "I know he meant well-"

"But all a sick little girl wants is her mommy", Abby finished simply, "I know, I know. I already explained it to him."

"I was never actually mad at him."

"I know that too", Abby exclaimed happily, "But Tim still thought he could make it up to you by…you know…" Abby motioned towards the living room where McGee was currently negotiating the terms of his early release from prison with Captain David.

Ziva chuckled. Gibbs and McGee had been taking turns at adopting the role of surrogate father figure during Tony's absence - especially to David. That was another reason why Gibbs and Ziva had expanded occasional visits to a weekly lunch at Gibbs' place. While Gibbs was the more grandfatherly figure, McGee was the one David came to for imaginative games and for a trip to the movies or sports events. Ziva knew that McGee personally didn't care much, neither for movies nor for any particular sport in the way that Tony would, but still. He was a great Uncle to David and would be an even greater father, Ziva was absolutely positive about that.

"How did your meeting with the woman from the adoption agency go?", Ziva inquired carefully, tracing the rim of her mug with her finger.

"Not bad actually", Abby declared somewhat guardedly, trying at a small smile, "She said our jobs were the only hindrance for a quick adoption, 'cause some agency executives or what-not are against parents in high-risk jobs and McGee's…well, his more than mine." Ziva was about to open her mouth in protest, but Abby held up her hand to stop her, a grin spreading slowly on her face. "_But…_ She said the letters of recommendation and the meetings and the assessments and the surroundings were too favorable for her _not_ to give her consent. So, apparently… We qualify."

"Congratulations, Abby!", Ziva said truthfully, leaning over to hug her best friend, "I am so happy for you."

"Thanks. We'll go down there sometime next week and- God, I'm so excited!", Abby exclaimed. She had been dying to tell someone but had waited until now for she had wanted Ziva to be the first to know - after McGee and her, that is. And now Ziva realized what had been missing: The terseness had left both Abby's and McGee's bodies.

"Mommy?"

Tali's soft whimper caused the two friends to break apart. Looking over to the foot of the stairs, they saw Tali standing there in her PJs and hugging Shim to her. Ziva got up immediately and went over to her daughter, quickly gathering the little girl up in her arms and carrying her over into the kitchen. There she returned to her seat and settled Tali down in her lap. Tali sat tiredly slumped against her mother's torso as Ziva kept her arms wrapped protectively around her. Watching Ziva whisper soothing words into Tali's ear and rocking her daughter gently back and forth, Abby couldn't wait to be a mother.

Noticing the longing glisten in Abby's eyes without even looking up, Ziva commented softly, "And you are going to be a wonderful mother, Abby."

Abby smiled at her. Then she leaned over and gently caressed Tali's cheek. "Hello, Tally-Wally."

"'lom Aun'ie Abby", Tali mumbled quietly, the fingers she had raised to her lips muffling her greeting. The little girl's eyes quickly diverted to the living room to affirm her Uncle McGee's joint presence. McGee gave her a short wave and a quick smile before resuming his game with David.

"You feelin' poorly, munchkin?", Abby inquired softly.

"Hmmhmm", Tali nodded and turned her head into Ziva's chest, "Hurts, mommy."

"Where does it hurt, tateleh?", Ziva asked, stroking her daughter's back. Tali put her hand on her stomach and rolled her eyes up to meet Ziva's, her look lethargic and weak.

"Your tummy hurts?" Tali nodded again. "Abby, could you-" Ziva looked up at her friend, wanting to ask her whether she could take Tali for a second.

But Abby just held up her hand. "No way. Tali stays right there where she's comfortable. Just tell me what I need to do."

"That is not-", Ziva started again, but Abby only shoved her hand closer towards her best friend's face.

"Mind the hand", Abby warned forcefully while a smile kept playing on her lips, "Think of me as the second pair of hands you've always wanted and never got. Use me." Abby tilted her head to the side.

Ziva sighed heavily. She took another glance at the little girl sagged in her arms and finally nodded her head affirmatively. "Her medicine is on that tray next to the sink", Ziva started instructing tentatively but finally relented to Abby's incessantly widened and expectant eyes, "Tea and some soup before she can take her medicine." Abby quickly saluted and went over to the counter. Ziva could only smile.

Not long after outsourcing the different roles she usually assumed during the course of a day, Ziva was gently fighting Tali's newfound aversion against thermometers when her cell started ringing. She looked into the living room and towards the coffee table helplessly. McGee nodded and smirked, lunging at her backpack by the door and retrieving Ziva's cell from the front pocket. "Kinda déjà-vu, isn't it?", he quipped, mouthing the word _'Tony'_ upon answering the call.

"Oh hey, Tony", he greeted cheerily, "No, we're not working a Saturday, I'm at your apartment actually."

Ziva shook her head, smiling a knowing smile. "First of all, don't call me McAsanova", McGee stated, a bit irritated, "And… Ziva's kinda busy right now." He looked over to where Ziva was presently checking the temperature displayed on the thermometer.

"Tell him I will call him back later, please", Ziva cut in lightly, relieved that Tali's fever had gone down.

"She'll call you back… Sorry, didn't know you didn't know. Tali's sick", McGee elucidated quickly. He shot Ziva a questioning look. Ziva only shrugged her shoulders innocently, pursing her lips. She hadn't come around to calling Tony last night because it had been a positive struggle to get Tali back to sleep and this morning hadn't started out much differently either.

Ziva watched McGee opening and closing his mouth without saying a word. She could practically hear Tony rattling off a bout of questions about his daughter's state of health, maybe a few curses thrown in there too for good measure and because Ziva had failed to alert him at the first possible chance. "Well, she didn't really get a chance to yet, Tony", McGee stated finally, rolling his eyes, "Don't worry, she's okay. Stomach flu, nothing serious according to Ducky… Okay, I will."

Tony and McGee talking on the phone always made for some amusing minutes of involuntary stand-up comedy. Ziva had to grin. She could just imagine Tony pestering McGee about how to take messages properly, McGee's sour expression fit that scenario perfectly. "Tony, I won't have to give her your number. She already has your number. You're calling her cell, genius!", McGee argued back agitatedly.

Ziva looked down at Tali who obviously found her Uncle McGee's performance highly entertaining as well. A smile had settled firmly on the little girl's face and Ziva could feel her chuckle a little occasionally. Tali, feeling her mother's eyes on her, looked up. "Unca M'ee's funny, mommy", she stated quietly.

"Lichora." Tali smiled.

"No, Tony, I don't know how to say _'get well soon'_ in Italian", McGee lamented, rolling his eyes, "No! I won't learn it now. Yes. Yes, I will. I promise, okay? Good. Bye." He heaved a deep sigh, flipping the cell phone shut. He went over to where Ziva and Tali were still smiling subtly at his distal exchange and put Ziva's cell on the counter in front of her.

Then he squatted down, so he could look into Tali's eyes. "Your daddy wants you to get better really soon", he told her gently, touching the tip of the little girl's nose.

"Me too", she returned innocently, giving her Uncle a brave smile.

"And you…", he straightened back up to look at Ziva, "He wants you to call him first chance you get. And he could make a video conference around three."

"Alright. Thank you, Tim."

He still continued to look at her, causing Ziva to raise her eyebrows questioningly. "Is that an alright to calling him or to the video conference?"

"The video conference", Ziva answered slowly.

"In that case he wanted me to tell you…to wear the tight black one with the Aguilera-cut. His choice of words, not mine", McGee informed dryly, nodded and left to recommence his game with David.

* * *

After Abby had been finished in the kitchen, she had helped Ziva get Tali to eat and to take her medicine by softly yet incessantly distracting the little girl with her soft yet incessant talking. Tali had finally succumbed to sleep soon afterwards and Ziva had put her down in her bedroom. Meanwhile, Abby and McGee had agreed with David upon the take-out-food of choice and had ordered Chinese for a late lunch which they ate together in the living room. Afterwards they had played five rounds of _Battleship_, Team David/Ziva winning each and every one of them while Team Abby/McGee went down fighting…with each other mostly. McGee and Abby had left around six in the evening after McGee had finished a 3D-jigsaw puzzle of the Eiffel Tower with David and Abby had assisted Ziva a second time at caring for a sick and rather cranky Tali.

After nothing else had seemed to work, Ziva had eventually taken Tali back upstairs and a seat on the rocking chair that had been adorning the far left corner of Ziva's and Tony's bedroom for decoration reasons only for close to two years up until now. David had always been a big aficionado of the rocking chair, falling asleep almost instantly as a toddler. Tali had been much different, though. While she had still been nursing, the rocking chair itself had relaxed Ziva more than it had lulled the little girl to sleep. Right now, however, Tali was finally asleep in her mother's arms. Absentmindedly, Ziva was still rocking back and fro, her fingers playing with the bracelet on her daughter's wrist.

The bracelet had been a present from Tony upon Tali's birth. It was an authentic silver bracelet with a special, child-proof and secure latch and designed like a simple chain so that they could get links added as Tali grew. As the little girl would have surely gotten any loose parts ripped off one way or another, a plainly crafted Star of David was held in place by two chain links on either side. Even before David was born and they hadn't even thought about the name they would give their future son, they had decided on DiNozzo as a surname. Later on, Ziva had had the idea of naming their son David, wanting their child to know of his Israeli heritage and to carry the name of her family - no matter the hardship they had put her through - for Ziva was, after all, the only living heir to the name. Tony had remembered her reasoning when they had been picking Tali's name and had had the bracelet made, so that, while David may carry the name, Tali could carry a piece of jewelry representing her heritage - just like her mom.

_Ima… _It had been almost twenty-eight years to the day that Ziva had lost her mother to what had been believed to be part of several revenge acts for the Dome of the Rock killings in October 1990 during the First Intifada. Albeit separated from his wife of eleven years and the mother of his two daughters, her death had triggered something of a shift in her father's antics. Eli David's pursuit of his ultimate goal grew increasingly callous and demanding on his entire family. Had it been her mother's incessant influence that had insulated Tali and her from the cruel and vindictive reality of their father's profession, Eli had enlisted both of them for primary training in the wake of their mother's death. While Ziva had proven to be much more capable, a crucial match even for Ari, Talia had lacked that last bit of instinct. Her death had dissolved the last connection to the world of the really-living for both Ziva and Ari. And with the perfectly bred Hamas-mole and the perfectly trained assassin Eli David's ascension to the head of Mossad had been only a matter of time from then on.

Ziva's entire childhood had been overshadowed by death, by cruelty, by the horrors she had faced simply by stepping a foot out of the door. Even though Eliana had tried to shield her daughters - yes, even the son that hadn't been hers - from that reality, her shield had been transparent at the best. After her mother's death, however, even that shield had evaporated. Ziva had almost no memory of Eli outside training camps, field offices or studies. His job had always come first while his family had always and foremost been a means to an end. Ari and she had often fought about their bitter reality during the nights when Eli hadn't come home, Ari always dutifully carrying the weight of destiny upon his shoulders while Ziva had resented every bit of it. '_Follow orders'_ - Ari, it was ironic really, had taught her that, military training had only reinforced it. Tali had often stepped in to resolve their fights - an _'appeasement policy on legs'_, Ari had called her on more than one occasion. In fact, Tali had kept them both grounded and seeing. After her death, blind and beyond, the life they had mercilessly and meticulously been groomed for had truly started for Ari and her. For Ari that life had ended with a gunshot to his head - for good. For Ziva that life had ended in Somalia - and real life had recommenced back here in Washington, at NCIS.

Granted, there was much Ziva wanted to forget, much she still wished she wouldn't have had to live through, but in the end she couldn't help but realize that everything that had happened to her had led to the life she was leading now. Tucking Tali into her bed that night and dropping a gentle kiss on the little girl's forehead, Ziva knew she didn't want to miss but a thing of her life now - Tony, Tali, David, her family at NCIS. They were who she was. And settling down with David on the couch that night to watch old Disney movies, Ziva realized that no, she would never let her children suffer a childhood like hers for they would _have _a childhood, she would make sure of that.

* * *

_**THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH** for your encouraging reviews and thoughts. Keep in mind, your reviews are like little golden stars on my author-ess canopy. And doesn't each and every one of you want to be part of that big constellation? In Other Words: Do click, do review!_


	12. PRES The Blue Flower's Votary

**THANK YOU **for your kind reviews and thoughts. Despite my love for this story, your reviews are the fuel that keeps the motivation flowing, so once again I urge you to share your thoughts with me, I would really appreciate it. Like I said, if you don't like to review at large just pick a storyline or a scene or a line or an aspect that appealed to you (or didn't, for that matter) and why. It's really your enjoyment that I'm writing this for, so grant me this coy request! :)

* * *

**Itsy-bitsy Q&A:**

**NCIS29: **Even though I have this story planned-through, I haven't actually put any thought into writing a sequel or prequel...or any kind and sort of continuation to this, but your idea certainly got me thinking ;) Well, let's see where this one is going for the time being, reviewer- and reader-wise that is!

* * *

**Chap 12 The Blue Flower's Votary**

_Sunday, November 1__7__th__ 2018_

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

"Now, remember what we talked about in the car", Tony started softly while bending down to their eye level. Somehow the eerie quietness of that corridor caused him to lower his voice. "Mommy's sleeping really tight…and we cannot wake her up because she's sleeping so tight."

"Onwy doter can", Tali mumbled, the small fingers she kept pressed to her mouth leaving her attentive assertion almost incoherent.

Tony smiled at the little girl, "That's right, princess. Only the doctors can make mommy wake up. And they will wake her up when she's all ready."

"When her body's strong enough", David recalled quietly, his eyes not leaving the swing doors to his mother's room.

"And while she's sleeping her body gets stronger every day, so she'll be back with us in no time", Tony assured them with a determined smile despite himself. Both children nodded faintly.

As promised, Tony had taken both his children down that bleak corridor, painted in that bleak bluish white. They were going to go see mommy. Mommy in the hospital. It still seemed fairly surreal to Tony, everything seemed like a very bad, very sick, very surreal dream. He was merely waking from his dream more often now. He was starting to cope. The day before he had eventually fallen asleep along with Tali, the two of them sleeping in her princess bed for the rest of the night - _slash_ morning, that is. When he had woken up, Tony had found Tali's big chocolate brown eyes staring back at him. She had apparently been deciding how she felt about having fallen asleep cuddled up to her daddy. Staying true to his new tactic, his lucid Tali-plan-of-action, Tony had remained silent, merely raising his eyebrows questioningly. Tali had eventually neither opposed nor rejoiced, had neither run off nor hugged him. Downstairs they had found David already watching TV for they had evidently slept in, it having been half past ten in the morning and all. Tony had whipped up a quick breakfast-lunch before announcing their promised visit to the hospital. While David had pretty much gotten himself ready, Tony had follower Tali's own instructions as to her daily attire and routine. Maybe, if circumstances had been different, Tony might have been a tad bit annoyed or at least bemused by his daughter's bossy, self-assured nature, but right then and there he had felt nothing but relief that she chose to talk in English now fulltime and to relay bits and pieces of a true self Tony was yet to uncover in full.

Outside room 713 they had stopped. Faint beeping and whispering made that hospital corridor even more eerie. Tony sighed inwardly, trying to brace himself as much as he could without letting the kids see his hesitation. He was certain they could feel it anyway. He had seen Ziva broken before. Somalia had broken her, shattered her, crushed her. He had seen her eyes when there had been no life left in them, when life had defeated them and her. But back then he had at least been able to look into her eyes, he had at least been able to promise himself that he would bring life back into her eyes. Now her eyes were closed. It killed him to see Ziva like that and now he feared their children's reaction. But they needed to see her, they needed to see that there was at least some twinge of life left in their mother. He knew they needed to see her.

He stood back up and pushed the swing doors open, forming an entrance with the door and his outstretched arm, through which Tali entered at once with a look of quiet determination on her face. Her older brother followed suit, feeling much more apprehensive. While Tali immediately rushed over to Ziva's bed, jumping up and down next to it, David took his time. Tony couldn't help but be reminded of that teaser-scene in _Stranger than Fiction_ when Will Ferrell's Harold Crick is counting his steps towards the bus stop, preciously small CGI-digits escorting his way. David looked almost as if he was counting his steps until the little boy came to stand on the other side of Ziva's bed.

When Tony followed his children in and the doors swayed shut behind him, he was once again overwhelmed by the nothingness of the room. He couldn't describe it any better: nothingness. Naught, no life. Sure, there were flowers lined up on the windowsill and on Ziva's nightstand, cards were stacked on every clean surface around the room, cards from co-workers at NCIS and even the cards Abby had drawn with the kids the day before and that which she had brought along when she had relieved Gibbs from Ziva-Watch with McGee later yesterday evening. Even the bouquet and card that had arrived from Tel Aviv last night were adorning the nightstand. The card was written in Hebrew but Tony recognized the signature to be Ziva's Aunt Nettie's. The rest of the room, however, was screaming austere whiteness: white linen covering her emaciating body, whitewashed green patterns covering her hospital gown, white-blue paneling on the floor. He asked himself if maybe, maybe he was imagining it, maybe the room wasn't as white as he made it out to be. Maybe the room was much more welcoming and maybe he just couldn't see the welcoming side of a hospital room.

He shook the reverie from his head and stepped over to where Tali was already anxiously dancing on her toes beside her mother's bed. Tony gently placed his hands on Tali's sides and waited a few seconds for her familiar flinching. It didn't come. Her thoughts at hand seemed much stronger than her doubts about Tony. He lifted her up and placed her on the side of the bed, careful to avoid contact with what appeared to him as Ziva's almost frail-as-glass body. Tali crawled closer to Ziva's face to get a better look at her mother. She seemed so still. Tali had seldom seen her mother so still, her eyes closed so thoroughly. Her mommy would always know when she was watching her sleep, would always wake up and look at her. But now she wasn't, her eyes were closed and stayed that way.

The little girl tilted her head to the side and eyed the various tubes suspiciously. As Tony watched Tali examine every part of her mother's body, he glanced over at David. The little boy kept staring at his mother and sister. When he noticed his father's expectantly raised eyebrows, he briefly looked over to meet Tony's stare but turned back almost instantly. He had no intention of joining Tali on his mother's hospital bed. Meanwhile, Tali had taken up tracing her mother's absent features, pausing at neatly treated cuts for fear of inflicting any kind of pain. Tony smiled bitterly at his daughter's attentiveness. Several times he witnessed the three-year-old inhale deeply. Either she was trying to keep her tears at bay or she was trying to say something. She did neither, but it still broke Tony's heart.

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

"Where're they at?", Gibbs asked, following Tony into the kitchen.

"Abby and McGentleman took them to see a movie, get their mind off…_things_, you know", Tony stated matter-of-factly, turning back to the steaks on the small portable barbecue he had bought just that afternoon after dropping the kids off at Abby's and McGee's, "Will do them some good anyway to get away from Daddy Dearest."

A morose chuckle escaped his lips as he kept his back turned towards his old boss. Gibbs took two beers from the crate he had brought along, opened both of them with a savvy flick of his hands and leaned against the counter in reaching distance from Tony. He handed Tony one bottle, which the younger man took with grateful understanding. With the odd sip they watched the meat sizzle for a moment in silence.

"I took them to see Ziva today", Tony explained randomly. He kept staring at their steaks.

Gibbs took some time to let the comment sink in before taking another sip. "And?"

"If your call that afternoon…when you told me that Ziva had been in an accident...didn't break my heart right then and there, this afternoon finally did the trick", Tony answered slowly. Gibbs simply nodded his head, his sapphire eyes plastered to the wall across from him.

"Tali was all over her. I mean, I tried preparing them, you know? I tried telling them that she wouldn't just wake up if they shook her, but she's only a little girl", Tony started rambling, "She just looked like she wanted to shake her or scream at her or pour water over her head, anything to wake her up. She looked so damn confused. And David… David just…_stood_ there, watching them. He looked like he wanted to go over there and hug her, but… Like he was afraid that Ziva not hugging him back- I don't know, boss…" He trailed off, shaking his head along to his own confusion.

He plugged off the barbecue, put the steaks on matching plates and turned around to go over to the kitchen table. He sat down behind his plate and instinctively reached for the knife at his belt when he suddenly realized that he had left it in Spain. He knew exactly where he had put it too: on that fake mahogany humidor by the door in his apartment. Tony shook his head vaguely. A faint chuckle, a self-derisive sneer slipped quietly from his lips. "Boss, I think I may have broken Rule Number 9."

Tony was just about to get back up and look through the cabinets for a steak knife when Gibbs' hand turned up on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down. Tony tilted his head to look up at his old boss. Gibbs put the beer bottle down next to his plate and pulled two army knives from his belt, handing one to Tony before sitting down himself. They both started cutting into their steaks in silent sync, neither of them looking up.

Gibbs didn't stop chewing, just uttered blankly, "She'll come around. She's Ziva."

* * *

"Jethro", Ducky exclaimed in surprise, almost running into his oldest friend in front of the quaint apartment block on West Clark Street.

"Hey, Duck." Gibbs kept his face buried in the collar of his coat even though he hadn't buttoned it up.

"Lunch with Anthony?", Ducky assumed, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Gibbs nodded. "You comin' from the hospital?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am", Ducky answered slowly, taking his time to scan Gibbs for covert traces of grief, "I escrowed Ziva's medical records the good Doctor Bennett had requested at the front desk yesterday afternoon. Unfortunately, the doctor himself hadn't been in, so we arranged for a meeting in a more…_private_ setting today. And being as I was in the area, I thought it convenient to drop by Anthony's apartment and look in on him."

"Oh no, you weren't", Gibbs smirked knowingly, already stepping around Ducky and towards his car.

"I guess your fireplace is out of order then, Jethro", Ducky called after him, his mouth gaping open pointedly at the last syllable.

"I'm more of a vending machine guy anyway", Gibbs deadpanned, smiling crookedly before getting into his car and leaving Ducky to shake his head vaguely.

* * *

After ringing once, the door to the apartment opened to reveal a ragged looking Tony with a rag tossed over his shoulder. Tony looked like he wanted to be surprised by Ducky's visit but couldn't. Instead, he invited him in with a simple flick of his hand. Once more Ducky found himself scrutinizing the man before him, checking for any signs of imminent alarm. Tony looked tired, that much he had expected. But not physically tired either, mentally tired. He seemed trapped in his own head space.

"_Just trying to snap you out of your head space, you know."_

"_I have perfectly good space in my head."_

Without a word of inquiry Tony led the way to the kitchen where he was presently drying the dishes. Ducky took a stand in the doorway while Tony retrieved a plate from the sink and started scrubbing away on it. Five minutes later Ducky doubted there was still a wet spot left on that plate. Tony kept scrubbing, though. And at that moment Ducky realized that not only the kids needed their father, but Tony needed the kids just as much - and if only to occupy his mind and focus his attention somewhat reasonably.

"What do you think of Bennett?", Tony inquired, finally putting the plate away in the cabinet above the sink.

"He is the Chief of Surgery and the head of one of the best trauma units on the East Coast. Ziva was in very capable hands, Tony. Her current condition is the best-case scenario in regard to her serious injuries and the critical state she was in", Ducky assessed evenly, "That she didn't suffer from more severe internal bleeding can only be attributed to sheer good fortune, however."

Tony's whole body tensed instantly. He finally turned around to face the older man, his eyes piercing with their green colour. "How?", he demanded harshly, "How is she lucky? You keep saying she was lucky. But h_ow_ is she lucky?"

"Anthony..."

"Her childhood was a whole fucking piece of crap. Her father put her through hell and back. She got screwed over by basically everyone she ever trusted. She was abducted, tortured and close to dying more often than Chev Chelios - and that's counting _both_ movies", Tony ranted through gritted teeth, "And the moment she finally gets to leave all that shit behind, some drunk bastard rams her car at full speed. Tell me _how_, Ducky? _How! _Is she lucky?"

"She isn't dead."

Ducky's words were spoken as evenly and calmly as before, neither resentment nor rebuttal. It was a simple fact, a simple fact Tony kept overlooking entirely. Tony just stood there, his jaw slowly unclenching, his eyes slowly widening, his breath slowly settling. Something so painstakingly true was ringing through Ducky's assertion. He was right, after all. Ziva wasn't dead, she wasn't dead yet. Even after all that she had gone through, she wasn't dead. She was still there, there was still a chance - maybe even a good chance left. She was still there.

Complete silence fell over the two men in that kitchen in that apartment in the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday that wasn't like any Sunday they had ever experienced before. Still, a clarity had just settled in Tony's eyes. "Ducky?", he perked up suddenly, his voice raspy and small.

"Yes?"

"Did she ever give me the full story...about Somalia, I mean?"

"Did she ever _need_ to?"

A small, derisive laugh dripped from Tony's lips. "I guess not..."

Ducky stepped up to the younger man and put a hand on his shoulder. Looking up at him, he stated, "And that is saying much more about you than it is about her."

* * *

"I made the wrong choice, didn't I?"

McGee saw the words leave Tony's lips, he saw how his breath froze and left traces in the air around him and it even, despite its hoarseness, sounded like Tony's voice - but it wasn't like Tony at all to ask the younger man about his opinion on an ostensible mistake. They were standing outside the apartment building in the cool of the settling afternoon and waiting for Abby to arrive with the kids. While Abby had returned home with David and Tali after the movie, McGee had gone and visited Ziva in the hospital. Seeing as Abby had dropped him off there and the apartment was halfway between the hospital and their new place, McGee had decided to clear his head, take a little walk and drop by Tony's place.

"You don't really want my opinion", McGee retorted finally, turning away from his former co-worker, and resumed staring at the swing set in the park across the street.

"What? No- Really. I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't want an answer, would I?", Tony clarified, his voice getting a notch higher as he tried hiding himself deeper in his long, black coat.

"No, you don't, because it doesn't make any difference now anyway. You did what you did. You did what you thought you had to do. That's all there's to it."

"No, it's not", Tony argued, turning to look at the man beside him, "You wouldn't have gone. You wouldn't have left."

McGee turned as well, the two men finally facing each other, looking into each other's eyes. McGee licked his lips slightly, the answer forming in his head before it crawled out of his mouth. "Tony, it doesn't matter what I would have done."

"No way, you wouldn't have left. Never. McGroundhog would have never made Tony DiNozzo's mistake of a lifetime", Tony sneered.

He didn't even know why he suddenly felt the need to harass one of his best friends, one of the best people he knew. Tony knew, of course, how supportive and important he had been to Ziva over the past two years, how the former Probie had matured to, quite probably, become a better man than Tony had ever been. Tony felt so much hostility inside of him, though, so much anger that wanted to boil, that desperately wanted to find, identify and eliminate a designated target.

"Tony, it doesn't matter what I would have done", McGee reiterated, punctuating each word with a slow, miniscule pause.

"The hell it doesn't!", Tony hissed, taking a step forward.

"Well, _no_, it doesn't", McGee cried out disbelievingly, "You're Tony. The most self-assured, self-confident and self-pretentious smartass between here and New York City. At least that's who you wanna be held for. So, what? Your precious little shell gettin' a-crackin'?"

"Even the biggest smartass can get his ass kicked-"

"Only by himself", McGee assured him good-naturedly.

Tony chuckled derisively. "And by Ziva."

"You don't actually want me to approve or revile, Tony. You really don't."

"I don't?"

"No, you don't." McGee smiled benevolently, the look in his eyes softening.

Tony's raised his eyebrows and set his lips in a thin line. "I thought I did."

"Your whole life isn't just that one choice you made. It's how you live with it, how you deal with it", McGee asserted, returning to look at the swing set.

"Look at that! Probie San all grown up to a McMaster", Tony exclaimed proudly, a triumphant laugh dripping from his lips. Aiming his voice a little higher for the imitation, he added in a booming voice and with eyes widened eccentrically, "How marvellous!"

McGee briefly glanced back at Tony, the former Senior Field Agent whose position he now held, and a small beam of pride settled on his face. "And anyway...Ziva never slammed you for leaving. Why suddenly so self-loathing?", he returned to their previous line of conversation, his eyes narrowing.

"I guess, she knows me better than I know myself... And for a reason that is beyond me still loves me too", Tony lamented.

"_God_... Your self-deprecation really needs a lot of polishing still", McGee laughed, shaking his head, "Doesn't suit you, though."

"Takes away the shine and glamour, doesn't it?", Tony deadpanned, nodding, "Yeah, I know..."

"Nevadan desert without Las Vegas."

"Dreary."

"Then why do it?"

Tony scoffed. "Maybe I'll stop blaming myself when I finally get somebody else to blame me instead."

"Maybe you're not to blame." McGee's eyebrows rose, his voice calmly even.

"Yeah, thought about that one too." Tony tilted his head to the side.

McGee put his hands into the pockets of his coat, tensing against the cooling air around them. "You even know what you're blaming yourself _for_?"

"Everything."

"Ambitious."

"Always been."

A knowing grin settled on McGee's face. "Wanna know what I think?"

"Hasn't this started out being a McQ-and-A session before it oozed down that yellow brick road into the width and depth of the Robert Rodriguez take on the Oz classic?", Tony retorted matter-of-factly, adding on a side-note, "Which would totally make you the Wicked Witch of the East by the way...probably with an AK-47 for a foot, though."

McGee let Tony finish his recital without saying a word, merely listening and interpreting it all as a simple _'Yes'_. "For _once_...you cannot blame Ziva's dad, or Saleem, or even Vance. No one's to blame for that accident. But instead of dealing with it, you start looking for someone to blame...and you won't find anybody. Not even yourself", McGee elaborated genuinely, "So, it's a little harder than you planned. Doing it without her isn't easy. Having her lie there in a coma isn't easy either. But you beating yourself up doesn't change a thing. It just takes up energy that you need for the kids and for being strong...for Ziva."

"Rule Number 11."

"When the job is done, walk away", McGee nodded affirmatively and turned to look at Tony, his look quizzical, "You done with yours?"

"Walking away from the one thing means walking towards the other, right?" Tony smiled impishly, gazing back at McGee.

McGee mirrored his smile and raised his hand out of his pocket to point at the approaching car with Abby, David and Tali inside. "Sometimes things walk towards you all by themselves."

* * *

"Daddy?"

Once again Tony had noticed the little girl the moment she had entered the living room. He had noticed her slow, considerate advance to the kitchen and he had noticed her standing in the doorway and watching him put away the dishes from dinner. After dinner he had taken both of them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Following a pro-con-discussion with Abby they had decided it would be a good idea for the kids to go to school on Monday and not stay home. It would take their minds off things and give them some much needed distance from their current reality. When Tony had announced their decision - more like a question in need of approval than a statement to be followed - David had quietly yet decidedly agreed with him. Tali had remained silent and Tony had understood not to pry. After some clarification and explanation on David's side, Tony had tried to uphold their usual Sunday evening routine up until now.

Snapping the dishwasher shut, Tony turned around to face his daughter. She was clad in her yellow PJs that they had put on in a joint effort half an hour ago, holding a book tightly against her chest. "Yes, princess?", he responded softly, giving her a smile.

Tali appeared a bit unsure about her own determination, unsure whether she actually wanted to stand here and ask the question she had been pondering up in her room ever since Tony had left to go downstairs. Inhaling deeply and somewhat dramatically - Tony couldn't help but grin a goofy grin inside - she rushed through her question in one breath, "Can you wead me a stowy?"

Even though she was mostly talking to him in English now, Tony still had a hard time understanding her missing R's and her spongy T's. Taking a step forward, he crouched down in front of her, keeping an unobtrusive distance still. "You want daddy to read you a bedtime story?", he clarified gently, his eyebrows raising in the slightest. Tali nodded her head apprehensively.

Tony smiled. "This the book you usually read with your mommy?", he inquired, pointing at the book Tali was clutching to herself.

Tali shook her head resolutely. "Dat's mommy's book", the little girl explained matter-of-factly and added, handing him the book she had brought along, "Dis is daddy book."

Tony eyed the rectangular token of incipient trust. A few days ago Tali's declaration, her distinguishing of books she would read with Ziva and books she wanted Tony to read to her might have disappointed him, but throughout the last two days, in conversations as well as situations, Tony had learned a few important lessons about himself and about his family. Smiling and nodding his okay, he asked, "Upstairs?"

Tali nodded and led the way to her room. When they passed David's, the little boy sitting at his desk and drawing, Tony stopped. "You okay there, buddy?", he inquired, poking his head through the crack in the door.

David turned around and nodded. Noticing the book in Tony's hand, however, his eyes narrowed in a way that reminded Tony distinctly of Ziva. "Bedtime story?"

Tony nodded, trying to remember their bedtime routine from a few days ago when Ziva had still been there with them. He realized it hadn't come to any kind of routine, though. "You getting one too?"

David smiled. "Yep, after Tali."

"You might wanna pick the book of your choice then", Tony winked and left.

He turned into his daughter's room where Tali was already sitting in her bed, the blanket thrown across her legs in a scrunched-up mess, and clutching Shim to her. Her eyes were set on him expectantly and Tony couldn't help but smile. He walked over and straightened the blanket around her, holding it up so the little girl could wriggle down in her bed and get comfortable. Tony knew that Ziva would climb into bed with her while reading the story, but he wasn't so sure Tali would want him to. So, he purposely fumbled with the light bulb of Tali's bedside lamp for some exaggerated time, waiting for Tali to make her move. When the little girl didn't budge from her position in the middle of her princess bed, however, Tony had his answer. It was okay. He stepped over to his daughter's desk and retrieved a chair, placing it next to her bed. When he sat down, Tali rolled over so that she could look at him. Tony gave her a quick smile, which she returned ever so slightly, before starting the story at the beginning. It didn't even take the whole chapter and Tali was fast asleep, soft snores emanating from her lips. Tony grinned. No matter what everyone said, Tali totally was Ziva's daughter. He put the book on the nightstand and watched the little girl's peaceful slumber for a few moments. Then he bent down and brushed a soft kiss against her temple.

"Buena notte, principessa", he whispered.

* * *

_Reviews equal happy and motivated author-ess to your enjoyment's disposition. Get a-clickin', people!_


	13. Sweet Heaven, Venomous Hell

**Welcome **to another sweet-slow, interaction-based chapter in the **PAST**. As this story is framed by a day-by-day-structure you get those on weekends and I like to think that, with two kids, Ziva and the gang are absolutely entitled to them. But rest assured, upcoming chapters are going to be very heavy on the content and continuation of the case-plot AND there's some serious Tiva coming your way too as Tony's return from Spain is drawing closer. So far, so scoop: **STAY TUNED and-**

**-KEEP REVIEWING. Thank you very much**, once again, my deep appreciation is with you!

* * *

**FOR SOME REASON THE SYSTEM DID NOT ALLOW ME TO REPLACE CONTENT, SO I HAD TO RE-UPLOAD TWO CHAPTERS. I MUST APOLOGIZE FOR THE THREE ALERTS YOU MAY HAVE CONSEQUENTLY RECEIVED!**

* * *

**Your friendly Q&A:**

**ChEmMiE:** Now, wouldn't you wanna know? :) Let me put it this way: I'm trying to keep this along the lines of the show's structure and M.O. as much as non-professionally possible. And as we all know too well, they aren't very giving when it comes to clear-cut explanations and quick revelations. I can assure you, however, Somalia will addressed again in later chapters and as Tony obviously hasn't asked all the questions yet, there's a good chance Ziva will have to reveal the full truth to us in her own words one of these chapters. Might it change how he feels about her? There's always that nasty-nagging chance, isn't there? We'll have to see.. Until then, I must ask for your patience ;)

**chocolate fish:** ...in case you read this. Thank you very much for your review and alerting me to that mistake. As a great wine aficionado it would have been a shame for me to leave that mistake in, so I immediately replaced the content (or re-uploaded the chapter...darn system). I do have an explanation for that little glitch in thought, though: First I had put a Riesling on Ziva's desk until I noticed that it was such an Austrian choice, so I replaced it with a Chardonnay. Through another sitting, however, I realized that red wine would suit the scene so much better and replaced "radiantly blanc" with "dull red", but apparently the last change to Merlot didn't make it into the uploaded document. Fixed that now :)

* * *

**Chap 13 Sweet Heaven, Venomous Hell**

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Sunday, November 10th 2018

**********51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

The man took off his long, black coat and put it over an old chair that still upheld its customary place in front of an old wooden desk. Miniscule grains of dust dispersed in the air around him, drizzling down on his coat a second later. The man didn't notice. His emerald eyes roamed the empty hall. His look jumped from one abandoned piece of furniture to the next, from one undelivered piece of cargo to the other. Everything around had been abandoned years ago. Maybe that's why he felt right at home, that's why he couldn't imagine being someplace else, anywhere else.

"I remember us playing here, all over this place", the man recounted wistfully, his deep voice resounding within the empty structures.

Another man stepped from the darkness of the unlit section of the hall. The tip of his cigarette painted a distinct glimmer into the haziness. Slips of eyelids were halfway covering his dark eyes, giving him a tired and absentminded expression. He cleared his throat and looked around. All he could see was the same warehouse they had spent so many nights and hours in, planning, scheming, fighting. To him, this place was a means to an end. An end that was soon to come, soon enough so that he wouldn't have to come back here anymore. Lugging the cigarette from his mouth, he smacked his chapped lips. "Who?", he inquired hoarsely.

"Philip and I, when we were kids. This is where we'd come to play, all over this place", the man repeated, opening his arms as if to embrace the memories that were attached to its splintered walls, "The only hours I could get away too…from Dante's Inferno." A furious shadow crawled over his green eyes and dimmed their piercing color.

The older man puffed the smoke artistically through the cracks in his teeth and inhaled deeply. "You sure you wanna stage the big face-off in here?"

"Yes, and nowhere else", he answered decidedly. The green-eyed man turned around and started tracing the surface of crates and boxes with his fingers, leaving traces of reminiscence in the dust.

The other man didn't seem at all perturbed by that kind of resilient determination. "You let him know already?"

A decisive grin settled on his thin lips. "Yes. Everything's prepared, everything's ready", he explained easily, "He's just waiting for DiNozzo to show up and the drugs to take their full effect."

The man wearing a green army jacket sneered, "Doesn't it bother you at all that brew on legs could off us all with that shit in a spiffy if he felt like it?"

"No", the green-eyed man answered softly, his blonde-brownish hair sparkling greasily beneath the seasoned light bulb, "Not in the slightest."

"Fucking keeps _me_ awake sometimes", the older man cried out, shoving his chin forward.

"No need, really. That's not his style."

"Style… That's what they call it now, huh? Style?"

The green-eyed man smiled benevolently, taking a step towards the other one. "It's a quid-pro-quo op for him. And the mindset he's coming from, you still honor that sort of thing", he explained blankly, "As long as we're no threat to him, he won't be a threat to us. It's simple as that."

"If you ask me, that guy's a threat s'long as he's breathing", the older man croaked, clasping the butt of the cigarette back between his lips.

"Not for us", the green-eyed man declared forcefully, "And now get your act together, Sarge."

The older man chuckled derisively. "Whatever you say…"

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

The last night hadn't exactly been easy, for neither of them. Even though Tali's fever had gone down, the little girl was still ailing with the flu. After Ziva - with the good help of a rocking chair - had finally lulled her daughter to sleep and after she had carried David up to bed when he had fallen asleep halfway through their second movie of the night, she had relocated to the study and relayed all recent events to her life partner, as promised.

When Ziva's face appeared onscreen, noticeable shadows under her eyes and not at all wearing her tight-fitting black nightgown, Tony knew immediately that something was up, that something was wrong. Ziva never looked tired. Even when baby David hadn't allowed her to sleep more than four to five hours each night, Ziva had never looked tired. He also noticed the tedious note woven through her accounts of Tali's condition.

"I am really sorry I have not called you sooner", she conceded eventually, her eyes plastered to the computer screen. She was wearing one of her chaste nightgowns that showed only little cleavage, her hair was pulled back with a clip and her voice was quietly even.

Her upright position on the chair pretty much told him everything he needed to know anyway. She was neither leaning back in calm relaxation, nor was she leaning onto the desk in sweet temptation. Tony felt painfully reminded of a business call - to the woman he loved, no less. Before he could say anything in return, however, a hoarse whisper called out to her from the doorway behind her back. He couldn't see who it was until Ziva turned to look.

"Mommy?"

Tali was standing there, her PJs mangled around her body, her expression drowsy and distressed. She looked like she had dragged herself to the little study with a last ounce of determination and was now more than ready to topple over. When Ziva jumped up from her chair and rushed over to their daughter, Tony had a clear view of their small exchange. He saw Ziva scoop the little girl up in her arms, whispering tenderly in a mash of Hebrew and English. She whirled around briefly to give him a knowing look and he nodded. He would wait his turn for when she had soothed their daughter back to restless slumber. And while he waited, one crude fact became very clear to Tony: He was thousands upon thousands of miles away from them, could only sit there and watch Ziva take care of their sick, three-year-old daughter. For a reason he didn't like to ponder more closely, Tony suddenly felt absolutely ridiculous for having pestered Ziva with incessant questions, for giving her a hard time because she hadn't relayed every detail of Tali's health to him the moment she had noticed something to be wrong with the little girl. He felt childish, stupid.

When she returned and slumped back into the chair in front of his virtually enhanced eyes, she seemed even more distant than before. "Back to Neverland, our little girl?", he asked, trying to keep his worry from surfacing in his voice.

"I doubt she is feeling very adventurous tonight, Tony", Ziva retorted quietly.

"I…uh…I-"

He struggled for words, for things to say. Normally they wouldn't be able to tear themselves away from the screen as they would equally cherish their little time together. But something very obvious told him their distal date wouldn't turn into the usual, sensual tête-à-tête but come to a soon and sudden end. "I wrapped up my case this afternoon, so I'm good to go", he stated on what he hoped to be a high note.

"That is great. I am happy for you", she answered colorlessly.

He knew she was serious, absolutely earnest, yet he missed the added joy, the seductive glisten. Was he being selfish? "So, what about yours? You found yourselves the thousand-dollar-lead already?"

"I am afraid not. We have somewhat hit a dead end, yes?"

"Well, not for long, I'm sure", he countered good-naturedly, unable to shake a chorus of _'anti-climatic'_ in his head, "So, listen, I read about that new _Ice World Arena_ opening in South Washington next week and I remembered how much you love skating and kinda lost myself in a vision of you showing the kids how to skate and so I got all Fed-Ex-y and bought three tickets for the grand opening on Tuesday. Anyhoo, I sent it off before I called yesterday and…"

"Tony, I-"

"Mommy, Tali's calling you." Ziva's sentence was cut short by David.

When she whirled around, she found the little boy standing in the doorway where only a few minutes ago Tali had been standing, rubbing sleepiness from his eyes. Ziva held her breath for a moment and really, Tali's soft voice was calling her from the master bedroom. She got up instantly.

"Can I have a glass of water?", David requested groggily, looking at her with his sleep-induced emerald eyes.

"I just need to take care of your sister first, yes?", Ziva answered softly, gently leading him out into the hallway and into the direction of his room, "Go back to bed, I will get you your water in a minute."

The six-year-old nodded weakly and shuffled back into his room while Ziva rushed towards her own bedroom. Once more Tony was left to stare at an empty chair, pondering just of how little help he was from where he was. No wonder Ziva looked tired. Even ninjas could wear themselves out. A scoff almost dripped from his lips. When Ziva reappeared onscreen ten minutes later she didn't even bother to sit back down. She merely gave the display of her laptop a little push so Tony could see her while standing up.

"Tony, I am sorry, but David-"

"It's okay, don't worry. Virtual raincheck", he waved off, giving her the best nonchalant smile he could muster.

"Thank you", she returned meekly, "And thank you for your thoughtfulness, but I do not think it wise to drag Tali onto an ice rink right now."

The smile froze on his face and his eyes lost a little color. "I know, stupid idea-"

"No, it was-"

"Mommy?" David's voice was carried in from his room on the opposite side of the hallway.

"I really have to go now, Tony."

"I know."

* * *

While Tony, on a balcony in Rota, spent another half an hour staring at a blackened standby computer screen, Ziva tended to David's need for water at five o'clock in the morning before she retreated to their bedroom in Washington, catching two dire hours of sleep before Tali woke up again. At around seven o'clock she took the little girl downstairs, putting up their sickbay on the living room couch instead and coaxing Tali into another few hours of sleep. In the meantime Ziva decided to stay awake for good and seize the chance to bustle around the kitchen for a while and to get some superficial cleaning done while she reveled in not having to think, not having to contemplate. When David woke up, he helped her prepare breakfast, which they decided to eat in the living room per Tali's bright-eyed request. Afterwards their paths parted again with David leaving for upstairs while Ziva remained with Tali.

It was obvious the little girl felt better already, the many hours of sleep - even if not entirely uninterrupted - having taken their well-intended effect on her. She was presently impersonating Shim and trying to explain various symptoms of various illnesses to a large, purple-green frog that McGee had gotten her a few weeks ago. Her uncle-of-choice had claimed he had walked by the toy store and had had no choice but to buy it, informing the little girl that frogs were really popular in France, his wink much more directed at Ziva than Tali. She was sitting cross-legged on the one end of the couch, a blanket always tightly wrapped around her. Ziva sat reviewing old case files and proof-reading her recent reports on the other end of the couch, one vigilant eye always set on Tali.

Around midday the doorbell rang suddenly. Ziva got up and arranged Tali's blanket as she passed the little girl, dropping a quick kiss on her head before she answered the door. Outside, clad in a gray windbreaker he kept buttoned up to his neck, stood Gibbs, a box in each hand and a small smile adorning his face. Ziva had to bite back a chuckle at the sight of him and beckoned him in with a nod of her head.

Noticing her coated amusement, Gibbs assessed dryly, "Told you, you wouldn't have to come get your food." He took off his jacket. Ziva, having taken the boxes from him, smiled and tilted her head, looking at him skeptically.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just would have never pegged you as the kind of man who would deliver", Ziva mused.

Gibbs bit back the insipid Tony-urge to comment on her sentence's wry double-meaning. Instead, he let the cunning glisten in his eyes speak for him. "For two reasons only."

"Yes?"

"Ulterior motives", he stated blankly, knowing that Ziva more than anybody would understand the gravity of needing what only drastic measures could get you. "And food doesn't walk by itself. 'Least not the way I like it."

He gave her a sly smile and took the boxes back, entering the living room ahead of her and missing her soft shaking of the head. He went into the kitchen and put the boxes down on the counter, Tali's eyes immediately landing on him when he stepped back out.

"Unca 'ibbs!" Her face lit up. Gibbs couldn't help but mirror her boasting smile, glad that her trademark enthusiasm had somewhat returned to her already.

"Hey there, little girl", Gibbs greeted her, crouching down in front of the couch, "You feelin' better?"

She nodded her head eagerly even though her chocolate brown eyes remained a little dimmed. "Still sick", she admitted degradedly, a soft sigh trickling from her lips.

"But your mommy's takin' really good care of you though, right?", he murmured, leaning in a little to make their exchange more of a secretive feat.

Tali grinned mischievously even though Ziva could hear every word they were saying from where she was standing in the kitchen. "Ah-huh", she nodded, trying to lower her voice to a whisper she added dramatically, "Med'sin's yucky."

Gibbs nodded his head understandingly at the little girl, sighing exaggeratedly. "I never liked the medicine either that my daddy made me take."

Tali's eyes went wide. "Your daddy?", she blurted out with surprise lacing her voice.

Ziva winced inwardly. She was putting the contents of Gibbs' lunch on various plates and was setting the table, but she still couldn't refrain from eavesdropping. Even though Jackson had taken to visiting Gibbs more often throughout the years, Tali had never actually met Gibbs' father. His illnesses had kept him from routine visits in the last years of his life. But Jackson's death had hit Gibbs harder than anyone could have expected. Of course, he had never openly shown them how much he had really hurt and how much he was still hurting. The crates of memories littering his foyer for months on end had been but a small indicator to his emotional state. Gibbs didn't forget easily; actually he never really did. Coming to terms with fate wasn't an easy feat for Gibbs either. Jackson had been different. Jackson had come to terms with old age before long, had accepted his deteriorating health, his slow but continual fading. Gibbs had been by his side in that house in Stillwater where he had grown up in, he had held Jackson's hand when he had passed away. Though, Jackson had not only been the father Gibbs had re-allowed himself having, but also one of the last people around who had actually known Shannon and Kelly. Suddenly and gravelly, Gibbs had not only had to come to terms with losing his father but also with losing one of the last missing links to a family, a wife and a daughter, he had once had. Shannon and Kelly would soon be but a memory he alone cherished and relived every day of his life. They would never let go of him and frankly, he didn't want them to. Sometimes, however, and more often now than not, he was glad for the distractions, for his present life and present family- not to _replace _them, they never could…but to _engross _him.

"Yes, even your old Uncle Gibbs has a daddy", Gibbs smiled, ruffling Tali's hair softly, "Everybody has a daddy…just like you."

Tali contemplated this sincere thought for a moment before she perked up again, "Mommy too?"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to wince silently. Eli David was still a very sore, very painful subject for Ziva. After all, he was her father, no matter what he had done and no matter what she had endured by his relentless hand. In Gibbs' pristine opinion, Eli David was a bastard. He knew Ziva shared that sentiment on many a level as well. He knew for sure Tony did wholeheartedly. But something inside Ziva was still only a daughter. She couldn't make her own memories go away. To her, Eli wasn't an explicit case of inglorious bastard-ness, not somebody she loved to hate and with a passion too. Eli was most ambiguous to her, somebody she loved and hated at the same time for who he had been and for who he was. Gibbs knew, Tony had told him once, that Eli had secretly and ambiguously acknowledged Ziva's choice of life and Ziva's children with Tony - his only grandchildren - by sending her that picture of her and her siblings. True to the complexity of their relationship, however, she hadn't spoken to him in years, not since a last fall-out a few months after she had successfully acquired legal U.S. citizenship.

Gibbs was very well aware that it wasn't his place to comment on their biological and maternal grandfather to either of the kids. It was Ziva's and Tony's decision on how to deal with the subject. Gibbs' brief loss for words was seamlessly obscured when Ziva's voice cut in from right beside him, "Yes, tateleh, I have a daddy too."

She had to smile at the pensive expression on Tali's face and squatted down next to the couch, crossing her arms on the arm of the couch and watching the little girl curiously. Tali's gaze jumped from Gibbs to Ziva and back, each time scanning their features closely with her eyebrows tightly knitted together . "Unca 'ibbs no mommy's daddy?", she inquired innocently.

While Gibbs was quietly taken aback by the little girl's assertion, Ziva seemed completely unperturbed. In fact, this wasn't her first conversation of the sort. She had explained the relations - or rather, the _non_-relations - between the members of their family to both of her children numerous times in the past. With David the topic had come up when he had learned about family relations in school and repeatedly thereafter when his friends had been talking about weekends at their grandparents' and David had inevitably associated many a grandfatherly activity with his Uncle Gibbs. Granted, the topic hadn't really come up with Tali yet, but Ziva had expected it nonetheless.

"No, tateleh, Uncle Gibbs is not really mommy's daddy…not like your daddy is your daddy", Ziva explained cautiously, putting some loose strands of Tali's hair behind the little girl's ear, leaning in with a smile and adding softly, "But he is like a daddy sometimes, yes?" Tali quickly mimicked Ziva's knowing grin, nodding along.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows slightly at the ease, with which Ziva had just diffused the situation. She didn't even need to look at him. She had long relegated the traditional idea of a family to a place in her heart that didn't need be anyway. After her sister Tali had died, Ziva had discarded the thought of ever getting the chance at a family of her own. At NCIS she had found family and it wasn't the traditional kind but Ziva couldn't care less and she refused to raise her children in a way that would make them care about blood relation. Family was who you called family, who you trusted. _Mishbacha…_with emphasis on the trust part.

Ziva knew that Gibbs waited for some kind of comment, some kind of explanation but she turned to him with a knowing smirk. "Lunch is ready", she declared plainly. A quiet chuckle left his lips.

Tali's arms instantly shot up towards her mother and Ziva gladly lifted her up into her arms as she got up, keeping the blanket wrapped around the little girl. She was about to ask Gibbs to take Tali for a second while she got David, but Gibbs beat her to it. "David in his room?", he inquired, already getting up from the ground and walking towards the stairs.

* * *

Gibbs knocked softly on the door to David's room that had been left slightly ajar. Thinking it could only be his mother, David didn't even look up from his coloring while Gibbs stepped into the room and took a stand behind the little boy, distinctly peeking over his shoulder at his current drawing. Gibbs always felt a little amazed by the firm concentration the six-year-old displayed despite his age. Then again, he knew that the little boy's attention span was that of his mother's more than his father's.

"Lookin' good", Gibbs commented sincerely, smiling at the little boy when he spun around in his chair.

His face brimming with a big gin, David jumped up to hug Gibbs, slinging his arms around the older man's middle. "We eating here today?", he asked suddenly when he pulled away.

"Yup. Didn't think you'd see me today, did ya?", Gibbs retorted benevolently.

David shook his head. "'Cause Tali's sick, you know", he assessed morosely.

"Yeah, noticed that", Gibbs stated plainly and sat down on David's chair, pulling the little boy into his lap and spinning them back around so that they were facing the pictures scattered all over the desk, "That's a lotta pictures you got there, buddy."

"Been drawing since breakfast", the six-year-old elucidated with a soft sigh ringing through his words, "'Cause mommy has to watch Tali and Tali's been sick…twice today."

Gibbs let a light _'Huh'_ slip from his lips while he took to skimming through David's drawings, looking over the top of the little boy's head where he was perched against his chest. Most of the drawings were showing people, a compilation of lines that is, in various settings, some showing some kind of welcome-scene, one showing three people waving goodbye to a retreating fourth one. "These are really good", he asserted, raising his eyebrows approvingly.

"Really?" David's eyes lit up.

Gibbs nodded slowly, scrutinizing each and every drawing for every possible detail. In the corner of his eyes he could see David watching him anxiously, following his line of vision meticulously. Gibbs didn't say anything and kept scanning the pictures, even when David's mouth opened and closed without saying what he so wanted to say. Then suddenly and in one haste breath, the little boy asked, "You think daddy'll like them?"

"They're all for your dad?"

"Yeah, for when he comes home…'s a surprise", David explained almost timidly.

"He'll like 'em. Sure of it." Gibbs nodded, which elicited a sincere smile on the little boy's face.

While the six-year-old took the drawings back from Gibbs and put them in a pre-approved order, Gibbs watched him intently. "You want things back to normal, bud?", he inquired suddenly, his tone calm and understanding, "With your mom and all?"

David nodded. "It's okay, though. It's not Tali's fault she's sick", he conceded with a shrug, slipping off Gibbs' lap to put away his drawings on a designated place on his shelf.

"That's right. It's not", Gibbs nodded, tilting his head to the side, "Still sucks, doesn't it?"

David nodded, mirroring Gibbs' knowing half-grin. "It's more fun with mommy and Tali when Tali's not sick", he asserted decidedly, biting his bottom lip.

"Sure is."

Gibbs threw his head back and got up. Smiling his crooked smile, he held out a hand to the little boy and David took it at once. Together they marched down into the living room and over to the kitchen where Ziva was sitting with Tali in her lap, talking quietly to the little girl. The table in front of them was set, the food served and drinks poured. She looked up when they entered, smiling at David and glad to find him smiling back at her. Ziva knew she would never be able to express just how glad, how relieved and thoroughly thankful she was to all of them, their family, for helping her through every day like…well, like a _family_, really.

"Well, what has taken you two so long?", Ziva inquired sweetly.

David shot his Uncle Gibbs a knowing look before he sat down opposite his mother. "Talking", he affirmed easily.

"Man talk", Gibbs added with a smile when Ziva turned to look at him as he too took his seat at the table. Ziva merely nodded her head knowingly, smiling at the rather obvious wink Gibbs was giving her son.

Their lunch remained, for the most part, unusually quiet. It wasn't a bad kind of quietness, not the awkward, _may-the-earth-open-up-and-suck-me-in _kind of quietness - it was the good kind of quietness, the comfortable one. Gibbs and Ziva slipped easily and wordlessly into a joint child-routine, Gibbs helping David with cutting his food and with refills while Ziva was feeding Tali. Ziva had to bite back a derisive, inner chuckle. Ever since mastering the art of sitting up straight, Tali had relentlessly refused to be fed by either of her parents or any family member, no matter their creative and imaginative range of feeding tactics. They had started Tali on a mash-like selection of foods early on as the little girl hadn't taken to nursing the way David had before her. Doing it on her own, an onslaught of _'me'_ or _'lemme'_ escorting her undeniably strong independent streak, had been the mantra of the time. Tali, quite simply, didn't enjoy being fed and made that point very clear every time somebody even tried. Right now, however, she was quite happy to sit in Ziva's lap and abandon her three-year-old independent ways for the time being. Even though Tali was obviously feeling better, eating still needed a good portion of coaxing on Ziva's part. The task, Gibbs noticed, seemed a bit tedious to Ziva. Of course, he noticed. He always noticed.

When Ziva attempted to stand up and do the dishes, Gibbs gently pushed her back down and volunteered his proficient help, managing perfectly well in an unfamiliar kitchen while occupying David with questions about the little boy's soccer tryout - a useful fact he had picked up overhearing Ziva's phone conversation with Tony a few days back. Meanwhile, Ziva was starting her thrice-daily cajoling. Despite it having become their routine, Tali was still less than compliant about her medicine. David quickly asked to be excused and Ziva readily agreed, smiling apologetically at her son.

"Know what I think?", Gibbs started, kneeling down next to Ziva's chair and looking intently at the little girl in her arms. Tali shook her head no, temporarily forgetting about the fit she had been about to throw at the prospect of having to taste that syrupy liquid again. "I think you don't like to take your medicine."

Tali nodded her head slowly and Gibbs briefly joined in. "Wanna know a secret?", he whispered and leaned in so that his eyes were directly in front of hers.

The impish edge in his voice rendered the little girl's nod even more eager. "I don't like medicine either", he admitted evenly.

Ziva grew unsure of how this was going to help her cause as Tali turned around and looked at her with a _duh_-expression on her face. But she trusted Gibbs - even more, she trusted Gibbs with her children. Gibbs sighed. "There's a problem, though…with our secret", Gibbs continued slowly, dropping his voice even lower.

This caused Tali to lean a little forward, seizing her Uncle Gibbs with expectantly raised eyes. "We need the medicine, 'cause it makes us all better." Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head to the side.

Tali's face fell. She had been contemplating that same fallacy for more than two days now. The frustration showed on her face and Ziva couldn't help but secretly smile at the emotions playing on her little daughter's face. "Remember, I told you 'bout my daddy?", Gibbs perked up again and elaborated upon the little girl's small nod, "He told me a little trick now."

Once more Tali's head jerked upright, her eyes widening with suspense and expectation. "Wha' twick?", she inquired impatiently.

"You really wanna know the trick?"

"Yep." She nodded her head vigorously.

"It's a secret, you know. Your promise you won't tell?"

"Pwomise." She held up her little hand, swearing.

"Okay", his voice returning to its usual, tranquil color, "You gotta imagine the yucky syrup is something else." Tali kept looking at him quizzically. He knew the concept was kind of hard to grasp for a three-year-old, so he tried a different approach. "What's your favorite juice?"

"Stwabewwy", she stated definitely, her voice getting a little louder as she strained to get the pronunciation right.

"You know how strawberry juice tastes, right?"

"Ah-huh."

"Good, that's good. Now…", he looked up at Ziva and took the bottle of medicine from her, "You see the yucky medicine?" Tali nodded again. "When your mommy gives you this now you just think it's strawberry juice." Tali merely looked at him, mulling this idea over in her head.

Gibbs nodded for Ziva to try again, so Ziva took a spoon full of syrup and arranged Tali in her lap. Gibbs got up from the floor and bent over to speak into Tali's ear. "Now, close your eyes", he coached quietly and Tali did as she was told upon an encouraging nod from Ziva.

"Think about strawberry juice. Think about the bottle of strawberry juice in your mom's hand and about the red juice on a spoon", he chanted slowly, "Now open your mouth, Tali."

Tali opened her mouth obediently, her eyes tightly shut in concentration. In a swift and inwardly relieved motion, Ziva put the spoonful of medicine into Tali's mouth. Immediately, the little girl scrunched up her face in disgust but Gibbs kept talking about strawberry juice and how much she liked it. Eventually, the little girl opened her eyes again wide and gazed back at Gibbs. "Worked?", he raised his eyebrows, straightening back up.

Tali nodded her head slowly, unsure whether she was still tasting the yucky medicine or if she should believe her Uncle Gibbs and the strawberry juice. Ziva just smiled at them, brushing a thankful kiss against Tali's temple. While Gibbs finished up the dishes, Ziva carried Tali over to the couch. She put the little girl down, tucking the blanket tightly around her and Shim and sat down on the edge of the couch, smoothing back her daughter's hair and humming their familiar Hebrew lullaby. Not long afterwards Tali, who still had many a restless hour of sleep to make up for, was fast sleep. Ziva didn't look up from her daughter's peacefully relaxed face until Gibbs sat down on the other end of the couch. She could feel his intent gaze on her and eventually turned around to face him.

"If you want, I can watch her while you're with David", he suggested frankly, the look she had given David when he had left the kitchen enough to let him know what Ziva was thinking.

"I cannot ask that of you", Ziva declined instantly.

"You didn't ask. I'm offering." Ziva looked at him, holding his stare, then she looked back down at Tali. "I was a father once, you know. I know the drill with the throwing up, the whining and the colds."

Ziva's head shot up immediately. Easy comments about the family he had once had, the family life he had once lived, the family he had lost, were rare. They seldom came, they never came easily. But she couldn't help but trust his slight smile. After all, Tali was asleep, had had her medicine - her sick little girl was taken care of. David wasn't. Sighing quietly, she leant down and dropped a kiss onto Tali's soft curls before standing up.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Thank you…", she started, watching him reach for some magazines that lay on the coffee table, sapphires meeting ambers in piercing appreciation while the pause lingered between them, "Gibbs."

* * *

"You know, your dad will really like his drawings", Ziva commented easily, quietly from behind the little boy.

David had returned to his works of infinite art, so immersed in a new picture that he hadn't noticed his mother creeping into his room. Ziva smiled at the perfect order in which the drawings were arranged on the desk. She chuckled inwardly. Mossad had taught her to identify patterns and codes, NCIS and Gibbs had taught her to think outside the box - a hardwood crate, really.

David grinned and finished crayoning in a tree. "I never said they are for daddy", he noted pensively, taking a sideways glance at where she was peeking over his shoulder. Ziva only smiled a knowing smile and kissed his cheek. Then she turned around and walked over to his bed, sitting down on it and keenly folding her hands in her lap. "Where's Tali?", he inquired suddenly, his voice lower than before, and spun around in his chair to look at his mother.

"Your Uncle Gibbs is watching her for a while", Ziva tilted her head and elicited an eager glisten in his emerald eyes, "I am completely and entirely to your service…_alone_."

"Azoi?", he asked hopefully, getting up and stepping over to his bed.

Ziva nodded her head with a smile and held out her hand, "What do you want to do?"

David took her outstretched hand and sat down on the bed next to her. He looked at her with firm certainty in his eyes. "My story?", he requested softly.

Ziva smiled and slid back along the bed, leaning up against the wall with David cuddled up close to her. Ziva retrieved the comforter from the footend of the bed and threw it on top of them, wrapping her arms around her son. Feeling him relax into her embrace Ziva couldn't help but wonder. David never refused her loving attention but he wouldn't easily ask for comfort or affection either. Not in a big way, that is. Yes, her children were very different, in many aspects. No matter the age difference, Tali would virtually jump into her lap and ask to be cuddled while David needed to be read. He would be fine without the cuddle but she knew he would still miss it for he kind of wanted it in the first place. Yes, her children were very different, and David certainly was as complicated in character as she was. She chuckled inwardly.

"It was the 4th of July", David started matter-of-factly, smiling up at her and jerking her out of her little afternoon reverie.

Ziva smiled back at him, her eyes growing reminiscent as she kissed his forehead gently. "Yes, it was the 4th of July 2012, more than six years ago. There were many fireworks and people celebrating in the streets and parades and carnivals and fairs. And I was very, very big because there was a little baby in my belly, my little baby boy." She tilted her head to lock gazes with David, touching the tip of his nose she added, "You."

By the time of Independence Day 2012 Ziva had already been eight months pregnant almost to the day, only a few weeks shy of her due date. David grinned knowingly. "And your daddy and I were celebrating with your Uncle Gibbs, and Uncle McGee and Auntie Abby and with Uncle Ducky and Jimmy in Uncle Ducky's garden when suddenly…", she lowered her voice and narrowed her eyes, smiling a thin-lipped smile, "My little baby boy decided to arrive much, much earlier than we had expected."

Ziva often thought it had been David's uncanny way of telling her that he was ready, but there was a more medical approach to the matter as well. Due to serious scar tissue in her uterus, both of Ziva's pregnancies had been high-risk from the get-go. She had been on special diets and low-stress treatment both times and despite her impatient and headstrong nature had done everything according to the doctors' instructions, not wanting to risk the lives of her future children. She had remained on bedrest, she had gone on maternity leave early into her pregnancy and she had stubbornly refused to lose her temper over anything or anyone. Minor complications had still accompanied both births, but David's had been by far the more precarious one. Having experienced agony and torture even more excruciating than childbirth and having been taught not to respond to it, Ziva had blinked away the first contractions and shooting pains without saying a word. Tony, however, had noticed her concentration slipping, had noticed her tensing up, her fists clenching, her eyes closing. Already late at night her water had eventually broke, but seeing as the streets were positively jammed and they had been at Ducky's anyway, Gibbs had called 911 while the parents-to-be - one fidgety nervous Tony and one oddly calm Ziva - had occupied one of the bigger guest rooms. Abby kept scurrying around on a newfound midwife-_slash_-best-friend-mission with McGee trying to control Abby's nerves and his at the same time while Ducky kept monitoring Ziva's progress. Ziva had always been firmly convinced that everything would work out, that the baby would be healthy. In her opinion, she had been in the best and most capable of hands with Ducky there. After all, having examined her after Somalia, Ducky knew the story to every scar on her labia. In the end, paramedics arrived right on time for the birth, tending to Ziva while Ducky delivered the baby. At 00:19 AM on July 5th 2012, David Jethro Anthony DiNozzo was born. Tony had been in the room with her, holding her hand, cutting the umbilical cord and handing her their newborn son.

"And while we waited for you, your Uncle McGee made a birthday video and your Uncle Gibbs showed Auntie Abby how to build little paper boats to keep her busy and your daddy made a list of birthday movies", Ziva continued softly.

A grin appeared on both of their faces at being reminded of the video they would traditionally watch together in the evening on each of his birthdays, followed closely by one of the movies Tony had meticulously chosen for each birthday in advance, thirty in total. Afterwards, paramedics had taken Ziva and the baby back to the hospital for a routine checkup that eventually declared the little boy perfectly healthy so that mother and child had been allowed to leave again after a mandatory forty-eight hours.

"And we named our little boy…?", Ziva started and raised her eyebrows slightly.

"David Jethro Anthony DiNozzo", David supplied proudly, rolling his eyes up to meet her smiling ones.

"Because David means _'beloved'_ in Hebrew and we love you so very much", Ziva explained and tightened her hold around her son, brushing a kiss against his forehead.

"And Jethro 'cause of Uncle Gibbs, right?"

"Right."

On that day Ziva had seen Gibbs' eyes get moist for the first and only time in all those years she had known him. While they had waited in that guest room for their son's early arrival, their NCIS-family members had made various appearances. On one such occasion Tony had asked Gibbs' permission to name their son after him. While McGee was David's godfather, they had wanted Gibbs as the guardian light for their child.

"And Anthony because it's daddy's name too."

"Yes", Ziva breathed wistfully, remembering how proud and completely awestruck Tony had been when, finally, he had become a father. She remembered the first time Tony had held David in his arms, the picture so absolutely perfect to her eyes. She missed that, missed David with Tony, missed Tony.

Ziva knew she would probably fall asleep with memories flashing before her eyes: Memories of Abby throwing her a _The-world-is-not-enough-baby-David-welcome-party. _Memories of McGee tearing up when Tony asked him to be David's godfather. Memories of Tony growing completely speechless at the sight of his newborn son. Memories of Ducky handing her an engraved wooden box with golden inserts as the Mallard heirloom that had been handed down through generations upon birth. Memories of Abby hijacking that same box a few days later only to bring it back to its new owners filled with pictures and paper-boats. Memories of Gibbs catching her at a lone moment, only Ziva with the baby, bending down and planting a kiss on her forehead, breathing a gentle and proud _'You did good'_ against her hair. And Ziva knew David would fall asleep with different memories, with imaginative memories of his family. He loved to hear his special story as much as Ziva loved remembering it.

"Ani ohevet otach, tateleh." She smiled down at him, hugging him closely.

He snuggled tightly into her embrace, putting his head on her shoulder. "Ani ohev otcha, mommy."

* * *

_Take a moment, think about what you just read and put your thoughts into words - and post it._


	14. Preserve the Purity of Life and Art

**Here we are **in the **PAST **and at the beginning of the week that will change everything. It will feature Tony's return to homebase, lots of sweet and angst-y family-moments balancing each other out, some real Tiva AND, of course, the case dramatically intensifying!

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The **SIT REP **within the chapter should easily bring you up to step with said case by the way. **AND**, in the back of my authoress-y mind and in light of my deep-felt appreciation of your thoughts, I thought it would be nice to hit the **landmark 100,000 words **around the time of **100 reviews **- so, please, let me urge you to help me achieve that possibly minor goal! :)

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**Q&A...for its own sake:**

**ChEmMiE: **Thank you for your appreciation of the subtle hints :) I can promise you, once again, that those hints are going to be addressed and dealt with - especially the one you mentioned!

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**Chap 14 Preserve the Purity of Life and Art**

_Monday, November 11__th__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

McGee stepped off the elevator without looking up. He was in a hurry. A million things were running through his head. The case hadn't left his mind over the weekend and ideas were sifting through last week's damp haziness. "Hey Abby!", he called out, striding down the small corridor leading to Abby's lab, "Ziva just called. Tali's coming with her to work today. She's still on sick-leave and Sarah's still sick herself, so-"

Suddenly, he stopped hard in his tracks. His gaze roamed the ostensibly empty room: no music blaring, no computer screens lit and littered with forensic content. Abby wasn't there. His eyes widening, he scoffed, "Who am I telling this?"

"Right now…that would be me, Special Agent McGee." A woman with long ash-blonde hair slit back in a ponytail and wearing black-rimmed glasses crawled out from underneath Abby's work desk, smiling at him.

"And who are you exactly?", McGee inquired bluntly, his eyes routinely scanning the woman's tall, slender build. She was wearing hardly any make-up but her skin was even and seamless.

The woman straightened up and dusted off her tight black pants. Her smile widening, she stepped closer and extended her hand, "Agent Claire Wheeler. I'm downstairs with the cyber unit."

Shaking the unfamiliar agent's hand, McGee wracked his brain as to a possible memory of that woman from his four-month stint with cyber crime those many years ago. He doubted he would have forgotten her of all people, though. "Oh…well, hello", he stumbled ingenuously, "I- I've never seen you before, have I?"

"Yeah, well… Subbasement will do that to you, right?", she laughed slightly, their entwined hands slowly severing.

"No, I mean- I didn't mean-"

"Don't worry 'bout it. You get used to the legal alien status", she waved him off.

She seemed nice enough, he thought. "No, well…yes. I- I worked down there too for a while. It's tough stuff…and you don't get to see the daylight often", he eased into an explanation, his voice gradually calming down to comfortable evenness, "That's all I meant."

She smiled at him, her indefinably colored eyes lightening up to underline its radiance. McGee found himself mesmerized by her expression, by the glimmer of good-natured serenity. Suddenly, he snapped out of it. Was he flirting with her? Was _she _flirting with _him_? Getting nervous and looking around, he continued quickly, "So what- what exactly _are_ you doing here above ground? And where's Abby?"

"I'm right here, Timmy", Abby cut in, turning up behind her life partner.

McGee jumped and whirled around. Abby, a freshly vending-brewed CafPow fix in hand, eyed him suspiciously. "Hey there, Abby", he blurted out, a timid laugh suffocated by his words. He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, smiling nervously.

Abby smiled back, though her eyes were still narrowed. "Agent Wheeler's fixing a problem with the general computer system", Abby explained evenly and stepped over to her desk, putting the CafPow cup down before she spun back around, "For some unknown and mysterious reason the communication system committed suicide over the weekend, probably after a severe bout of depression given the lack of attention bestowed on it lately." She sighed heavily, the sincere gravity of her words distinctly visible. "And Agent Wheeler here was so nice to come in early today and try and fix it."

"And she did", Agent Wheeler cut in triumphantly, "At least your computer should be working fine now again. I ran a full system check and did pretests with some of your key programs and everything seems to be in order. As for the inner-office communication system… It could take a couple of days to get new parts approved from the Navy office. Routine bug sweep, you know." She gave them both an apologetic smile. "So, I'll have to come back to install the new system in a few days. Speaking from experience, it could take up to a week, though, so…"

"No problem, really", Abby inserted quickly, turning to McGee, "I should work out more often anyway. Taking the elevator will do me some good."

A brief frown crossed Agent Wheeler's features but she quickly discarded any irritation. "I'll get the protocol and report to you as soon as possible", she assured before giving them both a wave and McGee a small, undeleted smile upon her leaving.

Abby twirled around instantly, raising her hands halfway in front of her body and wriggling her fingers expectantly. Sighing a content and comfortable sigh, she descended her fingers slowly upon her keyboard and started typing around on it vivaciously. McGee watched her quietly for a few moments, knowing full well she would appreciate those moments of silence to re-acquaint herself with her _'babies'_. When he took a small breath, her eyebrows rose immediately. "What I actually came down here for-"

Her lips set in an innocent line, she turned towards him with her eyebrows still beyond horizontal. "You didn't come to see me?", she dared him softly.

McGee successfully fought the urge to tell her that they had slept in the same bed in the same apartment, that they had come to NCIS in one and the same car and that they had presently not seen each other for only a little over an hour. Instead, he gave her a knowing smile, smacking his lips. "Yes, that too", he relented easily, "But Ziva called." Her best friend calling the office before seven o'clock in the morning finally got Abby's unaltered attention. "She has to bring Tali in today and asked me to check if your lab was corps- and body-part-free and if you'd agree to watch her… You know how she feels about the kids being around when we're working a case-"

"Yeah, I know… But I'm really behind on my work right now. I still need to finish processing the ear", Abby asserted pensively, pointing at the evidence pile behind her on the table, "And I doubt she wants Tali around the lab for _that_."

"Yeah, me too", McGee mused, a slight shiver running down his spine upon noticing the sickeningly bluish orange color of the severed ear in the nearest evidence bag, "Well, we're still looking into Kent, so she should be fine upstairs…"

He smiled at her understandingly and brushed a kiss against her temple. McGee was almost out the door when Abby's yell caused him to turn around and look back at her. "I'll try and be real quick with this and then I'll come and get the little munchkin as soon as possible. Gotta spare that kid some early reality checks, don't I?" She smiled meekly and held up her pinky finger in a silent promise. McGee smiled back at her and nodded. For a brief and conscious moment he couldn't help but imagine Abby with a future child of theirs and his smile grew bigger, the edges of his mouth lightening up his expression before he turned and left.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Tali was kneeling on Ziva's chair, choosing what color of paper and what kind of writing utensils she would need for her work of art today. She was rummaging through Ziva's drawers and the small backpack Ziva had compiled for her with everything they would need to get through the day and Tali resourcefully occupied. The little girl was feeling much better after three days of being doted on and basically doing nothing else but sleep and eat. Meanwhile, Ziva was spreading out a blanket next to her desk. She had once tried to get Tali to work at the free desk, McGee's old one, but the little girl would always return to her favorite place in the bullpen, even if that meant lying on the floor.

When the little girl's eyes fell on the figure of her Uncle Gibbs stepping down the stairs with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, she started shuffling around on the chair. Ziva was quick to lift her up and put her down on the floor, so that Tali could toddle up to him. "Unca 'ibbs!", she called out, jumping up and down in front of him in hope he would pick her up.

Gibbs' eyes narrowed almost indiscernibly. Ziva still caught the meek look of surprise on his face. She had actually planned on getting Tali down to the lab before he arrived on the scene. Well, the best-laid plans… "Morning, princess", Gibbs greeted softly with a small smile, squatting down in front of her and ruffling her dark, neatly arranged curls.

"Me wiw mommy d'day", she declared proudly, her grin causing Gibbs to chuckle slightly.

He leaned forward and brushed a small kiss against her forehead. "I can see that." He got back up and placed his hand on Tali's back, guiding her gently back over to Ziva's desk, his eyebrows raising visibly when he turned to look at his agent.

Ziva could only shrug her shoulders innocently, putting her arms around Tali as the little girl ran back to her mother. "The babysitter's more sick than she is."

"Maybe you'll bring us some luck on this one then", he quipped and winked at the little girl, eliciting a grin. Turning around and scanning the bullpen, he growled, "Where's-"

"Right here, boss", McGee cut in quickly, jogging towards his boss from where he had just stepped off the elevator.

"Sit rep."

Ziva nodded and crouched down in front of her daughter, her eyes slightly narrowed. "Mommy will be right over there working with Uncle Gibbs and Uncle McGee. You need to be really good, tateleh. Yes?", she requested softly. Tali nodded her head dutifully. Ziva smiled and brushed a small kiss against her daughter's forehead before the little girl plopped down on her stomach and turned her full attention to a blank piece of paper.

With one last vigilante glance Ziva straightened back up and stepped up to the plasma screen. McGee was leaning over his keyboard but hesitated to cue the contents of his computer, sensing Ziva's uneasiness. He knew how much she hated having Tali in earshot for a sit rep on a murder case. While they were still exchanging perturbed gazes, Gibbs had strolled over to the empty desk - empty except for a computer - and propped his hands up on its clean surface, staring expectantly at a blank computer screen.

"That's an idea, boss", McGee mused, pressing his lips together. He went over to his old desk and switched the computer on. Sitting down behind its keyboard, he accessed open network data in order to put up the relevant case files.

Ziva gave Gibbs an unseen yet appreciative smile before she joined them and perched herself on the desk, her eyes landing on the computer, its pictures and files invisible to the little girl on the other side of the bullpen. Sergeant Rivers' military service file popped up onscreen. McGee lunged easily into the details, "Sergeant John L. Rivers, found dead in a wood near Quantico with a clean knife wound to his heart and his head speared onto a pike."

"He is a loner, living for the corps. No family, apparently no friends or acquaintances outside the military", Ziva joined in, alternating glances between the late Sergeant's CV and Gibbs. Gibbs' eyes were planted to the contents of the screen, scanning the information carefully.

"Perfect service record, but heavily injures his leg while training and subsequently gets addicted to opioids. Joins a detox facility where he's treated with Methadone, routinely used as a maintenance anti-addictive."

"On the eve of his murder he visits a bar, where he gets into a fight with another patron. According to witness' statements he was accompanied by another man, confirmed as the Sergeant's best friend: Corporal Andrew Kent."

McGee quickly replaced the intel onscreen with Corporal Kent's records, personnel files and personal data. "Kent, just like Rivers, dedicates his whole life to the corps. An orphan from birth there is no next of kin, few social contacts if any. We've still not picked up any digital trace on him." McGee slightly turned in his seat to face Gibbs' vaguely raised eyebrows.

"Apparently the Corporal sucked into thin air", Ziva declared, a small hint of exasperation in her voice.

McGee instantly rolled his eyes towards her, his lips twitching. Ziva's eyes widened keenly. "It's 'vanished', actually", he corrected, "He _v__anished_ into thin air."

"Same difference." She threw her head back dismissively, her gaze briefly diverting to a spot across the bullpen that was strangely unoccupied. Her eyes quickly scanned the scene in front of her and widened when she found Tali in front of McGee's desk, cautiously inching forward. "Tali, no!", Ziva called out, jumping up from her position on the desk.

She was instantly kneeling beside her daughter who was looking at her with a bewildered expression on her small face. She had merely wanted to examine the colorful wires that were leading down from atop her Uncle McGee's desk when her mother's yell had made her jump. Ziva rarely raised her voice towards her children. In fact, Ziva rarely raised her voice at all - it were the low tones that were the most intimidating.

"These wires are linked to your Uncle McGee's computer. See?", Ziva carefully traced the wires with the tip of her index finger, Tali watching her curiously, "If you pull at them, the computer will fall on the floor. It is very dangerous. Zeh mesukan…me'od, tateleh."

Ziva was cautiously observing her daughter's reaction to her words, her dark eyes not leaving Tali's face as the little girl kept following the movement of her mother's index finger, trying to process what was being said to her. "Do you understand that?", Ziva pressed on gently, to which Tali nodded her head eagerly. "Will you go back to your drawing now? I shall be finished in a little while and then we can go eat our lunch, yes?"

"'kay", Tali nodded again, turning on her heels and dashing over to where she had been lying on the floor next to her mother's desk, flopping back onto her stomach.

Ziva got up from the floor and sighed before she resumed her position on the desk, trying to ignore Gibbs' impatient scowl. Tali was already too energetic again to have her run around the bullpen, she was warily aware of that. McGee was trying rather unsuccessfully to hide his smirk, but tried harder after Ziva gave him a menacing glare.

As if on cue, however, Gibbs jumped in without paying attention to their staring match, "Knock if off, kids. So, no one's seen Kent since leaving that bar."

"It does not appear anybody would miss him to report any sighting either", Ziva retorted with a frown on her face.

"No… He would've turned up by now", Gibbs mused, his infamous gut kicking in, "He wouldn't have left a friend hanging like that. He would've been here."

"Not if he's afraid that whatever happened to Rivers could happen to him too."

"McGee is right. What if whoever is out there, is out to get them both?"

"Doesn't look like they bugged anyone enough for that", Gibbs argued quietly, his sapphire eyes still planted to the computer screen, his gaze absent.

"No, but what if the message of the murderer's M.O. and the body parts are a message to Kent?"

"And Kent is in hiding."

"He _is_ a Marine. That is basically what he was taught to do."

"Nah, don't buy it", Gibbs dismissed their theory, straightening back up, "They were good men, good friends. Kent wouldn't just go into hiding. He's a Marine. He wouldn't just leave one of our own behind."

Ziva wasn't ready to give in just yet. "Maybe so, but-"

Suddenly, the heavy patter of plateau boots could be heard approaching the bullpen from the back elevator and Abby's wildly gesticulating and excited form turned up in front of them. "Gibbs is right, Ziva", she affirmed eagerly, elaborating upon facing three very irritated frowns, "Kent's not hiding…and if he is, he's missing quite a bit of himself." Abby watched knowingly while realization slowly hit all three of them, their eyes widening. Before anyone could utter a word, however, a loud clashing sound caused all eyes to whirl into the other direction.

Ziva's flew open the widest when they landed on Tali standing in front of McGee's desk next to the remnants of his computer. The little girl's eyes were even wider than her mother's, the hand with which she had just pulled at the red looking wire clasped over her mouth, shock written all over her face. People around them turned momentarily to see for themselves where the noise had come from but were quickly ducking back behind their folders and computers in fear of what was about to come. They were, after all, afraid of an Agent David they did not actually know in person.

Ziva did not believe in forceful punishment, at least and most importantly not when it came to her children. A long time ago she had sworn on her own bruised body that no child should be physically harmed by those it trusts with its life. She had been beaten and ordered extra hours of grueling training all throughout her childhood. She would never in her life let her children suffer by her own hand what she had suffered by her father's. She firmly believed that respect stemmed from feeling respected and not from fear. In a child's understanding, where there was little grey between the firmly outlined black and white, right and wrong appeared in absolutes, a holistic understanding of the world they would never have in just the same way ever again, an understanding they would vigorously be deprived of growing up. And as such it should be treated - carefully.

To unknown bystanders at NCIS Ziva David appeared a frightening woman. They knew from experiences others had made _for_ them that, effectively, she could take down each and every one of them, one after the other, and live to step over their bodies and use the elevator down into the lobby. Those close enough to get a clear view, however, had a far more facetted picture of her. There was no doubt that Somalia had changed her. She had gone there to die and she had survived - barely. Parts of her soul hadn't been so lucky, though. She had come to value the life she had been given and the second chance she had been granted. In a way, Somalia had returned to her what she had long deemed lost beyond reprieve: the choice to live, the choice to choose to live. And those even closer to her, those who were allowed a glance beneath what she still displayed as her challenging, menacing, skillful and obstinate shell, attained the fullest picture of all. To them, Ziva David was nothing like the frightening woman others perceived her to be - at least and most importantly _not _when it came to her children.

Ziva took in a deep breath when the first shock had ebbed away. She quickly scanned the stunned little girl over for any external injuries. Tali appeared unharmed, however, except for distress written all over her little face. The three-year-old was standing rooted to the floor beneath her, looking apprehensively into her mother's eyes.

"What did I just tell you, Tali?", Ziva started slowly, her tone very low and stern.

Usually, Ziva's voice towards her children would always enclose a tinge of gentleness. It was subtle and almost undetectable to most ears. When the gentleness made way for low sternness, Tali knew she had messed up, even though her mother's eyebrows were merely raised in sharp anticipation. The little girl couldn't find her voice to speak, however, wearily biting down on a small finger that was still on top of her mouth. Ziva took a step towards her daughter, whose eyes never left her mother's face and caused her to tilt her head back momentarily before Ziva crouched down in front of her so that mother and daughter were now staring at each other at eye level.

Ziva reached out and gently removed Tali's hand from the little girl's face, asking firmly, "Did I just tell you _not_ to touch the wires for exactly _that_ reason?" She pointed to the heap of technical innards beside them. Tali lowered her gaze to the synthetics and carbon fiber littered floor, nodding her head almost imperceptibly.

"Why did you pull at the wires then?", Ziva tilted her head down in search for Tali's eyes. Finding them brimming with tears, Ziva resisted the urge to pull her daughter into an embrace and added no less firmly, "Well?"

"Donno", Tali mumbled, inhaling sharply.

"You do not know?", Ziva asked, still trying to ignore the tears that were about to spring from her daughter's deep ambers, "Do you understand how dangerous it is to pull at wires, Tali? The computer could have fallen on top of you…or you could have cut yourself on its pieces."

Tali quickly scanned the mess on the floor with her eyes and tried imagining it on top of her, the thought driving dread and shock back into her eyes. She lifted them back up to meet her mother's unyielding stare, trying hard to choke down a sniffle. "Do you promise to be more careful next time…and to _listen_ to what I say?", Ziva persisted, narrowing her eyes at her daughter.

Tali started nodding, but upon her mother's raising eyebrows she uttered quietly, "Ken."

"Tov", Ziva whispered back, a small forgiving smile forming on her lips.

Tali's look was at best apologetic, at worst completely crushed. A tear was sliding down her cheek that Ziva caught with the tip of her thumb. She leaned over and lifted Tali into her arms, standing back up. The little girl instantly wrapped her arms and legs around her mother, the tears finally falling freely onto Ziva's shirt.

"Now, now", Ziva cooed quietly while rocking her daughter, "No need for tears, tateleh. You pulled at the wires all by yourself."

"You…m-m-mad", the little girl whimpered, raising her head from Ziva's chest to find her mother's eyes narrowed but a small smile playing on her lips.

"I was mad because you did not listen to me…and because you could have hurt yourself very badly, Tali."

"Sowwy", Tali croaked, rubbing her eye with her fist.

"I know, tateleh", Ziva confirmed gently, brushing a kiss against her daughter's cheek.

With that Tali settled her head back against her mother's shoulder, one hand clutching Ziva's shirt, the other one draped around her shoulder. She was looking into the eyes of her Uncle McGee, who was smiling at her sympathetically. He had jumped up from the chair he had occupied when the computer had crashed onto the floor and his lips were still pressed together in shock. All this was giving a whole new meaning to _'computer crash'_, really.

"Sowwy…Unca M'ee", Tali muttered sincerely, trying to catch her breath.

"Don't worry about it", McGee waved her off as he stepped closer. He pinched her nose a little and elicited a weak smile on the little girl's blotched face. "As long as you promise _never_ to do something like that again."

She lifted her head and nodded earnestly, then turned to face her mother for approval. Ziva smiled proudly and nodded her head, kissing her daughter's forehead. When they both turned and followed McGee's dim gaze, however, their eyes fell onto the heap of computer bowels on the floor in front of his desk once again. "Looks like I'll get a new computer after all", he quipped, silent grief in his eyes.

"And Tali knows she will _not_ get a Christmas present from her Uncle McGee this year because he must buy a new computer with that money now, yes?", Ziva clarified, her voice and eyebrows raised expectantly at her daughter. Tali's face fell but she morosely nodded her head all the same.

Ziva made a mental note to remind McGee not to make the present, which she was certain he would be getting Tali in spite of everything, not too big this year. Then again, she was - according to Tony at least and she knew it too, deep down - quite the sucker for the fireworks lightening up in her daughter's eyes on Christmas, so she was inwardly willing to refrain from said reminder if Tali would prove to be especially angelic in those six weeks left before Christmas Eve.

Tali sighed dramatically, a sigh Ziva couldn't help but associate quietly with Tony, and nestled her head against her mother's neck. Abby smiled wistfully at the way Tali was perched against Ziva, McGee picking up on it immediately no matter how much she tried to hide it.

"You were saying?", Gibbs perked up suddenly, forcefully pulling all of them back to working reality.

Abby quickly collected herself. "Right", she started, "I have no idea why I didn't get a match the first time around but the-" Her eyes instantly returned to Ziva with Tali in her arms and the slight alarm in Ziva's eyes. Feeling uneasiness creep up her body, Abby elaborated slowly and cautiously, trying to coat and cover the actual meaning of her words as thickly as possible, "The…uh…_pinna_ you found is definitely Corporal Kent's. So, I went back and checked the…uh…_manus_ again, because I had isolated matching DNA samples before, I just hadn't been able to find a match-match, as in the guy - and yes, that hand was definitely a guy's according to both Ducky and Jimmy - who was missing both a…uh…you know, pinna and manus…well, _pinnam_ and _manum_ actually, 'cause it's Latin and… Well, and I got another match. It's also Corporal Kent's. And processing the…uh…pinna I found like little encephalo-pieces in the external acoustic meatus that are Kent's as well."

While Abby looked on expectantly, biting down on her bottom lip, Gibbs blurted out exasperatedly, "What?"

Ziva smirked, winking at Abby appreciatively before she turned to the little girl in her arms. "Shall we finish your drawing together, tateleh?", she suggested. Tali, glad for the returned gentleness in her mother's voice, nodded her head eagerly. Ziva turned around and sat down at her desk with Tali in her lap.

McGee followed her with his eyes, stunned. "She understood that gibberish?"

Gibbs smiled crookedly. "You don't wanna know."

Abby quickly confirmed that Tali really was out of earshot. The little girl had already resumed her drawing, babbling away explanatorily to Ziva, who kept talking softly to her, thus blocking out what Abby was about to say. Gibbs and McGee were looking at her with anticipation written all over their faces and Abby got excited again. "According to AFIS the ear and hand are Kent's", she exclaimed, taking a few tiny steps towards them, "I went back to the eyeball and redid both searches. I don't know why it didn't work last week, though, that's kinda irritating…like horror movie kinda irritating. Doesn't matter. I still can't retrieve a usable sample from the eyeball but the hand is definitely Kent's, just like the ear is."

"Somebody must've kidnapped both Rivers and Kent right from outside the bar without anyone noticing, boss."

"Ya think, McGee?", Gibbs growled, taking a step towards his Senior Field Agent. This was the farthest they had come to a breakthrough in that most bizarre of cases since stepping onto that crime scene a week ago.

"That's not all, Gibbs", Abby cut in, her eager excitement flaring, "I also found traces of substantia grisea inside the external auditory canal- Isn't it kinda contradictory to say _'inside' _an external canal?" Gibbs looked slightly annoyed already, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Right, get to the point, Abs", Abby translated his look with the lowered growling voice of his and added, "Brain matter, Gibbs. _Gray_ matter, actually. Amongst other distributional areas it's found on the surface of the cerebral hemispheres. Somebody must've opened Corporal Kent's skull and scraped it off."

"Somebody's got a pretty good stomach", McGee gagged.

Gibbs turned and raised his hand in an obvious motion to hit the back of his agent's head when suddenly Ziva's voice perked up from behind them, having obviously followed their conversation nonetheless. "This is no amateur's work, Gibbs."

Gibbs nodded vaguely, his eyes narrowing. "A pro's."

His eyes briefly lost themselves in far-away contemplation and then, under the expectant gazes of the members of his team, he stalked over to his desk and bent down to retrieve an extra-large cup of CafPow from underneath it. Leverage in hand, he stepped up to Abby and brushed a soft kiss against her cheek, handing her the CafPow. "Good work, Abs", he smiled, "You still gotta find the reason why your search machine was on the fritz, though." Abby took the cup appreciatively and smiled, saluting.

Then he turned around and nodded at McGee and Ziva. "Find me a motif and, damn it, find me that Marine", he barked, already rushing off towards the stairs and heading for MTAC.

McGee immediately lunged towards his desk and retrieved the still intact hard drive and some files and returned to his old desk, putting up his new and hardly improved operational camp where he had started it about fourteen years ago. He was already typing and rebooting furiously when Ziva looked up from Tali and towards Abby with a helpless expression on her face.

Abby approached the pair at Ziva's desk, looking apologetic. "I really need to find that glitch in the search engine", she admitted quietly, biting down on her bottom lip.

Ziva gave her a small smile. "I know and I understand", she answered a bit degradedly but understanding, "I will just-"

"Or you could get Agent Wheeler to look into it while she's processing your system failure. It's probably one and the same problem anyway. The database search is directly connected to the internal and external communications system. So it's highly probable the outage in the database search was precursory to your system breakdown", McGee cut in easily, barely looking up from his current task.

Abby and Ziva merely looked at him with blank expressions. "Unca M'ee twalks funny", Tali commented with a laugh. Ziva smiled at her daughter, kissing her temple.

"Tim", Abby started with a contemplative look and nodded, "You might have just redeemed yourself." She swirled back around and lifted Tali out of Ziva's lap. "C'mere Tally-Wally, let's leave your mommy and Uncle Timmy to work while we go and do something fun."

Tali looked to her mother for silent approval and Ziva nodded her head. "Yay!", Tali clapped her hands and waved quickly at McGee and Ziva before vanishing behind the stairs with her Auntie Abby.

"Might?", McGee cried out abruptly, following Abby's retreating form with a frown on his face.

Ziva laughed. "What did you do, McGee?"

McGee looked over bashfully, blinking furiously. "I _might_ have…_accidentally_…flirted with Agent Wheeler from cyber crime downstairs…"

"Might? Accidentally?", Ziva inquired suspiciously with narrowed eyes and a hidden smile, glancing up from her computer screen. McGee only waved her off with a huff, causing Ziva to chuckle slightly.

* * *

Lunch hour had, for a change, actually taken up an entire hour as opposed to in-between take-out at their desks while following leads. As such, Tali's presence made for a perfect little change of routine, a little variation of the dreary exciting. Ziva had gotten a call from Sarah around midday that she was already well enough to pick up David and watch him in the afternoon. Ziva wasn't exactly thrilled but she really didn't have a choice. Abby was doing her a huge favor with Tali as it was, the Director was more than busy and McGee and she were working their butts off with background checks. The hour-long lunch was merely a treat for the three-year-old guest of honor. Said little girl was happily rattling away about everything her Auntie Abby and she had done today while a woman had been walking in and out again and again - Agent Wheeler, Ziva gathered. Apparently Abby had shown the little girl various tricks with color-changing chemicals - all of them nontoxic and nondeadly as Abby assured. Then they had played a card game with funny people on it - _Tarot_ as Abby clarified and only _after _she had put the cards for _Death_ and _Murder_ away first, Abby assured Ziva of that too. And afterwards they had looked through old pictures of the team, pictures with mommy and daddy on it, together - and Abby resisted the urge to call Ziva on the wistful look in her eyes.

Back in the bullpen, with Abby and Tali back in the lab, McGee and Ziva were sitting behind their respective desks, writing out reports and updating the digital case file when Gibbs returned. "Where you been, boss?", McGee called out absentmindedly.

"Why? You miss me, McGee?", Gibbs inquired, jerking his head back expectantly. McGee almost jumped out of his seat when he found his boss' voice coming from right in front of his desk, loud and clear and slightly irritated.

"No... I mean, yes- I mean-"

"Briefed the director and talked to Navy conduct officials. Neither Kent nor Rivers were working anything sensitive", Gibbs elaborated plainly, walking over to his desk and sitting down.

"So, no murder for classified intel either", Ziva clarified.

Gibbs looked up, obviously annoyed, "You found him yet?" Both shook their heads, Ziva adding a slight and indefinite _'No'_. "Then what _did_ you do…_besides_ eating lunch for an hour?", Gibbs snapped and jumped up from his seat, banging his palms flat onto the table surface.

"Looking for motif", Ziva explained evenly, completely unperturbed by Gibbs' flare-up.

"Just that there is none", McGee added.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows again and straightened up to his full height. "Money, love, revenge. I can list a dozen more right there."

Ziva nodded, looking at him decidedly. "Yes, as did we."

"_Money_: I checked both Kent's and Rivers' bank accounts again", McGee started off quickly, grabbing the remote on his way over to where Gibbs had already turned towards the plasma screen closest to his desk, and put up the necessary files, "They both have almost to the dot the amount of money to their name that could be estimated based on their E-4 and E-5 pay-grades..._sans _their weekly expenses. That's not much to begin with, even though they basically had no expenses except for rent, delivery services or the odd night out. Cross-checking their credit card bills, I also found almost simultaneous withdrawals or debits of similar amounts."

"When they went out, they went out together."

"Right. No records of other assets, estates or foreign capital, though."

"What about life-"

McGee instantly clicked the remote, pulling up certified bank statements. "Neither one had life insurance, meaning neither one leaves a possible beneficiary."

Ziva took the remote from McGee, after having taken a stand behind him and Gibbs, and pulled up the picture of a woman in her mid-twenties; brunette, slender, rather good-looking. "_Love:_ Rachel Monahan", she noted quickly, "Rivers' first and apparently _only_ love interest. They dated some years ago but separated when Rivers was sent on a tour to the Middle East and subsequently ended the relationship. According to Ms. Monahan, Rivers was heartbroken but she just could not live the army life." Gibbs huffed, shuffling his feet. Ziva gave him a quick and knowing glance before she continued, "We found a picture of her among the things from his locker in Quantico, the contents of which the Navy has finally relinquished to us. We found nothing that would suggest any later or current liaison."

"Kent?"

"A fellow Sergeant from Kent's and Rivers' unit mentioned to Ziva that he thought the Corporal was actually still a virgin", McGee answered, his lips pressed together.

"_Revenge_: Both Kent and Rivers joined the corps right out of High School, different recruiters each. I contacted both schools, one located in Baltimore, the other here in D.C. Both schools faxed their respective student records", Ziva continued, opening a folder with the appertaining documents, "Both records are spotless."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "And unofficially?"

"No different", Ziva assured, flicking the folder shut, "Neither their service records nor their unit's statements would hint at any matter of revenge or hostility towards either of them."

"We repeated that process for about twenty more reasons for anybody to kill anyone, boss", McGee asserted finally, smacking his lips, "Nothing panned out."

"And seeing as absolutely no one seems to be missing either the Sergeant or the Corporal-"

"They weren't killed for who they were", Gibbs mused calmly, "They just were at the wrong place…wrong time."

Ziva tilted her head to the side. "Sad but true."

* * *

**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

Three men were standing outside a big, blackened roller shutter gate. A lone street lamp was highlighting their faces, all three of them looking on indiscernibly, not looking at each other. Suddenly, a cell phone started ringing. Its owner flicked it open, brushing some wayward strands of dark hair behind his ear with it before answering. A female voice rang through the silence between those men, the actual wording of her simple yet significant sentence inaudible to everyone but him.

"It worked", she confirmed curtly, hanging up at once.

The man chuckled lightly and put his cell back into the pocket of his leather jacket. He turned to face the other two men, his blue eyes blazing with determination. "It worked", he repeated blankly, "They are on to Kent now."

"Good", the younger of the other two nodded, a strange and purposeful glisten in his emerald green eyes, "She did good."

"I did not marry her for nothing now, did I?", the blue-eyed man affirmed, a miniscule smile tugging at the edges of his tightly lined lips.

The older of the other two scoffed, "Didn't divorce her for nothin' either, I reckon."

Narrowing his blue eyes to heavy laden slits, the man sneered, "Definitely not for _nothing_, no."

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Ziva stepped through the front door of their apartment at around half past five in the afternoon, Tali tightly asleep in her arms. They had put out a BOLO on Corporal Kent that had, up until now, come back with the exact same results as their manual search: nothing. Gibbs had eventually let her leave early because of Tali. The little girl had worked herself up into hysterics when she had ripped off her Magen David bracelet upon running towards Ziva and catching its latch on some barbed wire sticking out of Gibbs' desk. Ziva had been immensely relieved and surprised that Tali hadn't hurt herself more in the process, but breaking her bracelet had been enough to send the three-year-old into a crying fit. Soothed but exhausted the little girl had fallen asleep in Ziva's lap. No matter how distracting Ziva's life was, however, the case wouldn't leave her. This case was different somehow, different than any other case they had ever had, this one felt different. Something was off, Ziva just couldn't put her finger on it yet.

In the living room Ziva found Sarah sitting on the couch and reading. When her eyes fell on mother and daughter, Sarah stood up and gave them a small smile. "I was just about to start on dinner, David's upstairs", she relayed quickly, starting to put away her things from all over the coffee table.

"I will take over then", Ziva retorted lightly, putting her backpack away by the door.

"Fast asleep", Sarah commented, nodding towards Tali.

"Yes, well… Her Auntie Abby is probably the only person in the world who can wear that girl out except for herself", Ziva quipped, smiling benevolently.

While Ziva went upstairs to put Tali down in her room, knowing she would have to wake the little girl up for dinner later anyway, Sarah got her things together. When Ziva came back downstairs to see her out, she was set and ready to go. "Isn't Tony due to fly in tomorrow?", she inquired randomly.

"Yes, his plane is scheduled to land sometime around midnight at Reagan National tomorrow", Ziva answered, suddenly surprised by how soon she would see her life partner again. Somehow that fact hadn't registered with every part of her brain yet.

"You want me to stay the night, so you can go pick him up?"

"Thank you, but there is no need. A friend of mine is going to."

Sarah nodded. "David is really excited about Tony coming home", she stated knowingly, having listened to the little boy go on and on about his daddy and what his daddy was doing and what he hoped he could do with his daddy once he was there.

Ziva chuckled, knowing perfectly well which kind of talkative attitude Sarah was referring to. "I know."

"Tali… Not so much…"

"I know." Ziva's answer was rather curt.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow then", Sarah greeted a little awkwardly, waving her goodbye.

Ziva tried herself at a smile. "Tomorrow. Good night." She closed the door behind Sarah, turned the key in the lock and leaned up against it. She heaved a distant sigh. _Tomorrow…_

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In the name of my heartfelt appreciation: Please click and review!


	15. Where we've gone in the cold ground

**THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH **for your thoughts, reviews and encouragements - as well as some well-intended (or so I hope) critique. You've made writing this story even more enjoyable with your explicit interest, so here's to the next 100,000 words and 100 reviews: _Skål!_

**I am afraid, **this A/N will be particularly long as I intend to respond to an anonymous review that doesn't give me another choice. Story starts after the jump - feel free to skip the upcoming wordiness!

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_**Submitted review: **Very interestng style of writing,not quite sure its a good style. The manner in which you write Tony has me shaking my head. You have him leaving, several times, and yet he's the poor man...whine. He's made his choice, evidently quite often. Why are you making him the poor hero? He's made his bed, and now he doesnt' have to live in it?_

**I love myself some good-measured critique, so here goes the defensio:**

**w:** First off, thank you for your review and your thoughts, even if you don't seem to like what you read - I do, however, hope you read this answer. Yours is a very viable vantage point. What you always have to keep in mind is that the 'style of writing' you are referring to, _my _style of writing is character-oriented. You don't only get a succession of events, you also get a glimpse inside the one central character WITHIN THE STORY, on whom it is focused. This central character is, most of the time, Ziva - except for the Ziva-coma-Tony-chapters, where this central focus shifts to Tony. Because this is fan-fiction and based on a TV-show of multiple characters we love to watch and see interact, I have to insert some kind of flux-of-consciousness into the story - meaning you get the thoughts and view-points of characters other than Ziva and Tony too - AS WELL AS a miniscule part of "objective" author-comment in-between to help mounting a backstory, make it somewhat easier to follow...or just for its own sake.

Having established that, we have seen very little of Tony up until now and in that, we have at least two storylines colliding: namely Tony's choice to have spent the last two years abroad and Ziva's accident and subsequent coma. Of course, Tony would feel sorry for himself; I don't see him as somebody who comes to terms with failures and problems very easily. And that is conveyed in his view-focused chapters. Whenever you have the focus on Ziva, you focus on someone who understands the choices he's made. Ziva has been through so much, Tony chasing his career and the subsequent struggle faze her primarily in regard to the effect it has on the children - and you can feel a little reservation, but in the end, she just wants her kids to be happy and concentrates on that. But you have Tali's feeling of betrayal, you have David's flickers of anger, you have Gibbs' resentment and Abby effectively said (in Chapter 9) what you did in your review. Tony has to live with it and deal with it (that's what McGee meant) and make it right if he feels he has made the wrong choice. Does he feel like a 'poor hero'? Certainly. He struggles with wanting to do it both, a family and the highly coveted job. I mean, Tony's proud and self-dependent, maybe a little fickle in his choices, and I simply can't see him working under Gibbs for the rest of his life - that's why I had him go away. But he struggles. As so does his family. But they're a family, they try and deal with it.

Rest assured, his past choices will be dealt with in future chapters and at some point (maybe) he will be able to stand up to the choice he's made, sleep in the bed he's made for himself and accept it. But it's hard. It's hard for everyone who's ever had to face the choice between family and job. May I remind you of something Ziva said in Chapter 4: _"Tony has not come that far...yet." _Something or someone (or more than one someone) will put his head right in that respect, I'm sure.

I hope to have satisfactorily answered your questions.  
Yours faithfully  
Coginom

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**Chap 15 Where we've gone in the cold, cold ground**

_Tuesday, November 12__th__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

The conference room at NCIS headquarters lay silent and still, completely empty. Tuesdays _at seven o'clock_ in the morning only first priority cases, the odd pro bono work for an old friend of an old friend of the Director's could have filled the conference room. But not so today. There was no case to be followed yet and no witnesses to be questioned in the conference room today, even though the MCRT of NCIS might have fancied itself a witness, _any_ kind of witness and _any_ kind of lead to follow up in this very room for their current case. Corporal Kent was their first priority right now, finding him, and had been for a week now. After so many bright and creative ideas had gone astray it was definitely getting harder to come up with a way, _any_ way to uncover the Corporal's whereabouts. However, no witness was to be questioned about them because no one seemed to know anything about anything. It was frustrating, piecing together what apparently nobody took a particular interest in. Meanwhile, smaller cases were piling up on Vance's desk, but he knew better than to run it by Gibbs, knew better than to subtly ask Gibbs to lay their current case to rest and concentrate on the more airtight and giving ones. He knew better because he knew it would be to no avail. Gibbs would have never given up on a case, never given up on the fate of a fellow Marine, _especially_ when no one seemed to care. Instead, Vance kept warding off approaches from outside the organization and bargaining over jurisdictional issues. No, Gibbs' reign over the MCRT had never made his job that much easier, but certainly more efficient - Vance couldn't argue with that.

Suddenly, the door to the conference room opened and in stepped Ducky, wearing a long beige coat over his suit and a hat, a tray with teacup, saucer and a teapot in hand - everything he needed for his Scottish tea, even the engraved flask with Scotch for the lacing. Hanging his coat and hat on the rack next to the door, he stepped back over and started preparing the tea with savvy motions, his expression absentminded. Leaving it to brew a little for itself, he went over to the still open door and bent behind the side wall, retrieving the two bags he had left there a few minutes ago. Putting them on a nearby chair, he started setting the table with the tea service and a plate he took out of one of the bags. Conjuring a second plate from the same bag, he placed it across from his. Then he arranged bread and scone, butter and jam between the two plates now resting on opposite sides of the big mahogany conference table. He put away the bags, went over to the small shelf where he had left his tea and filled his cup, lacing it with a large drop of Scotch. He turned back around and took a sip, sighing contently. Fetching a book from one of the bags he sat down at his designated place, neatly putting the cup atop the saucer. He leaned back in the chair, swiftly checking his wrist watch, and started reading.

A good twenty minutes later Gibbs entered the conference room, closing the door behind him. He was wearing a bulky, black jacket and jeans, holding his morning coffee in the one and two bags in the other hand. Both Ducky and he seemed unperturbed. Upon the door clicking shut, Ducky glanced up, marked the page of his book and put it down on the chair next to him. Gibbs placed his coffee in front of his plate along with one of the bags, putting the other one in front of Ducky. The older man instantly started emptying the contents of his bag, retrieving bacon and cheese, while Gibbs flung his jacket over the back of his designated chair and sat down.

"Did you remember to bring-", Ducky started with his nose still buried in the bag. Looking up, however, he broke off immediately when he found Gibbs holding out white-plastic cutlery to him. Offering an appreciative smile, Ducky took the knife and fork. "Thank you, Jethro. I cannot believe I forgot to pack the good sterling."

Gibbs nodded shortly and started rummaging through his bag, took out his customary scrambled eggs and reached for the army knife clasped to his belt, smiling vaguely. Then he opened the paper next to his plate and started reading absently while cutting into his breakfast. Ducky finished his tea in the meantime and the conference room lay silent and still again for a few minutes.

"Abigail told me the body parts belong exclusively to your missing Marine", Ducky stated randomly, glancing up from buttering his scone. Gibbs nodded, chewing hungrily on his eggs.

Ducky's eyebrows rose slightly. "He is still missing then, isn't he?" Gibbs scoffed and tilted his head to the side, nodding absently and putting his knife a bit firmer onto his plate.

"This is quite the mysterious query, I have to admit. We haven't had cases this frustrating since back in the day when computers were but luxury accessories for a covert area in the inside hub of federal agencies, going digital meant writing out indices for the abundance of boxes filled with paper files and the internet was but a vision for the future", Ducky mused, his eyes giving way to a fail glisten of intrigue, "What does your gut tell you?"

"That those two boys were kidnapped", Gibbs answered immediately, choking down the last bite of eggs rather violently.

"Yes, I do believe so too. They may have been loners, but the corps meant everything to them", Ducky affirmed knowingly, having caught up on the case files yesterday afternoon when Jimmy had asked his opinion on the brain matter Abby had found inside the ear.

"They were good Marines. Kent wouldn't have left Rivers behind like that."

"Yes, comradeship beyond the grave. Many a song has been written about that, hasn't it?"

Gibbs leaned back in his chair and planted his eyes firmly on Ducky, taking a sip from his coffee. "This isn't about them."

Ducky looked up from his scone, only mildly surprised by Gibbs' assertion. "No?"

"This isn't your typical means-motive-opportunity. Rivers was killed by a pro. And whatever we find, they arranged for us to find."

"They?", Ducky inquired, taken slightly aback by this latest vantage point, "You believe this to be some sort of intricate scheme?"

"Right now, I donno what to believe, Duck." Gibbs smiled crookedly. "What I _do_ know is, somebody went to a whole lotta trouble and doesn't want us to know about them…_yet_." He added the last word with a derisive edge to his voice, taking another sip of his coffee.

"And who do you think is the target of this rather complex whodunit plot?" Gibbs tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes, a small smirk dripping from his face before he hid it with his Styrofoam cup, taking another sip. Ducky nodded his head and exclaimed knowingly, "Ah… And what is your plan, Jethro?"

"Finding the reverse button", Gibbs answered cryptically as his eyes glazed over with pure intent, "Make the whodunit a howcatchem."

* * *

The little boy was running around the school yard with friends, apparently playing a game of Catch. Watching them from afar, his blue eyes trained firmly and exclusively on the little boy, the man couldn't help but feel a little proud that the little boy seemed to be very adept at evading being caught by the others. Maybe he was imagining it, he wanted to imagine it though. Somehow that frail and uncertain observation assured him, relaxed him even and he was seldom relaxed - if ever. The man was leaning against a bare wall at a construction site. He could overlook the whole of the school yard on the other end of the street from where he was standing at a former bay window on the fifth floor. He scoffed derisively. The school yard was completely open, completely unprotected, a perfect target for spying and observation, presented on a silver platter to attacks. It appeared nothing like the schools where he came from. Then again, he couldn't quite decide if that was a bad or a good thing either.

Instead of dwelling, however, the blue-eyed man concentrated back on the little boy in the school yard, his dark hair flailing in the persistent breeze of the day and yet smiling away the midday chill with his friends, playing. Subconsciously the man zipped his leather jacket further up to the tip of his chin. Watching the little boy smile and play made his innards churn. A pang of guilt ripped through the pit of his stomach, leaving his heart a little heavier than before. Children were growing up too fast. He had always lived with that very fact. In fact, he had grown up with that very fact. Where he came from, children were growing up way faster than they should. He had always rejected that, he had always hated that axiomatic nature about a childhood that effectively was none in the world he lived.

And yet here he was, on the verge and in the middle of thoroughly ripping apart that little boy's somewhat innocent childhood. Life could make children so much older than they should be. He knew he was and would be playing a responsible part in that boy's untimely ageing process, but really, he couldn't help it. Without knowing it, maybe even without sensing it, that boy had become an integral part of the operation. The man had never wanted to go that far, but in his experience life didn't usually bother to ask permission. Life happened. He had been on the run almost half of his life, destiny weighing upon his shoulders even longer. He had, for sure, never had a real childhood - and here he was, taking away another one. If he was true with himself, he had probably taken away many more a childhood through the course of his life.

Maybe this whole thing would end it. Maybe this operation, this plan lain out by coincidence and executed by diligence would put an end to his running. He doubted it, though. He scoffed. His blue eyes glazed over for a moment, his throat closed up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the wall and turned away from the moments of child-like joy in the school yard so far away, so very far away from him. No, nothing could end it until it ended him.

* * *

Ziva had told Sarah in the morning, quietly and knowingly, that she would pick David up herself and would take him back to NCIS headquarters with her so as to make up for Tali being there the day before. She intended to bring him home around four in the afternoon and return to NCIS later on so that she could catch up on the work she would have had to push back due to an extended lunch break spent with her six-year-old son. She had been a bit apprehensive to run her plan by Gibbs, but she hadn't needed to worry - _nor _to run anything by Gibbs. He had already known. She had run into him on her way to the elevator, but while she had still been struggling for words, he had simply told her to enjoy their meal and strode off into the direction of the bullpen. David had been ecstatic to say the least, telling Ziva story after story about his school day and repeating again and again how excited he was that Tony would be coming home tonight. Ziva had tried to explain that Tony wouldn't come tonight but that he would come early tomorrow morning, that David wouldn't see him until the next morning, but that fact couldn't dim the little boy's excitement. And Ziva was glad, really. She knew Tali would be an entirely different story to deal with and a much more difficult one at that.

Back at NCIS Ziva took David up to Vance's office, having gotten her plan cleared with the Director earlier in the morning. David knew he couldn't bustle around the bullpen, especially when his mom was working, so he usually did his homework in Vance's office or in his Auntie Abby's lab or down in autopsy when his Uncle Ducky was around and Jimmy didn't have to work there. Much unlike Tali he wasn't afraid of the morgue. He had always loved listening to his Uncle Ducky's stories or playing games with Jimmy down there.

When Ziva returned to the bullpen, McGee eventually decided to ask the question that had nagged at his curiosity ever since. Ziva could tell that he had something on his mind and narrowed her eyes expectantly at her partner from where she had already taken a seat behind her desk. "Why?", he asked simply and tentatively.

"Why am I taking him to NCIS with me when I will bring him up to the Director's office first thing?", Ziva explicated absently while sorting through her mail, "Well, he likes the Director's office."

The answer was almost too simple for McGee's liking, so he couldn't help but continue staring eagerly at her, waiting for Ziva to look up again. When she did, a small smile was playing on her lips. "He likes to be around headquarters. It is I who do not like either of them being around-"

"-when we're working a case and dead bodies keep turning up on screens and for real", McGee substituted knowingly, finally satisfied with the answer that stayed simple and yet so definite.

The smile remained firmly on Ziva's lips. "I gather, I repeat myself often, yes?", she inquired, raising her eyebrows.

McGee waved her off and returned to the contents of his computer, smiling. "Only when it comes to the stuff that's really important to you."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Director's Office**

"So, how 'bout your dad? You excited he's coming home today?", Vance inquired easily, glancing up from the reports he was reading. He was sitting across from David at the mahogany conference table in his office. Sure enough, the Director of NCIS had gotten a phone call yesterday afternoon concerning the temporary relocation of one of NCIS' chief operatives in the West of Europe.

The little boy looked up from his homework and smiled at Vance. Up until now they had sat in perfect silence, comfortable silence, well-known comfortable silence. Now, Vance wasn't exactly a member of their NCIS-family, but he wasn't the mean step-uncle either. To David's ingenuous understanding Director Vance was the boss of them all, even his Uncle Gibbs. But Vance was nice enough and he always answered the questions he asked him when he was there, and he knew lots about sports - much more than his Uncle McGee.

David nodded his head eagerly. "Yup."

"Yeah, I thought so", Vance mused, putting the documents aside and folding his hands on the table.

"Mommy said he'll come 'morrow, but I don't mind", the six-year-old elaborated artlessly, shrugging his shoulders, "Mommy said he'll be here till Christmas this time."

Vance couldn't help but smile slightly, finding the elevated grin adorning the little boy's face a tad bit too contagious not to. "I bet you'll have a lotta fun with your dad until then."

David shrugged his shoulders once again. "I donno."

"Well, what do you usually do when your dad comes home?", Vance asked.

And he was genuinely interested in it too. For somebody whose family waited for him more often than not, whose children didn't get to see his face for weeks on end more often than not, Leon Vance could certainly relate wholeheartedly to the situation his Agent DiNozzo found himself in. For somebody who always fancied himself a keen understanding of his own wife, Leon Vance could certainly relate sincerely to the situation his Agent David found herself in. More than anything else, however, as a father of two he related to the children.

"I donno", David commented plainly, his shoulders still absently raised higher, "Nothin' much."

"Does he take you to see games? Or movies?"

David nodded his head, not looking up from his drawing. "I don't mind", he started suddenly, causing Vance to lean in a bit closer, "Like…he's just there."

It was a full sentence alright, but to Vance's ears that simple sentence held much more meaning than that. There was a six-year-old boy who didn't really mind what he did with his dad whenever he got to be with him - he just enjoyed that his dad was there. Vance knew his own children didn't feel much different. Granted, they were getting too old for the downright daddy-affection, but he knew it was there. It was easy, really. It was so easy. David worshipped his dad no matter what. Vance knew that kind of worshipping would stop at one point or another. It had stopped with him. Their situation would force the little boy into a more adult understanding of what was going on in his family, and still, still he would always be glad when his dad came home and as long as that first child-like instinct was in check, things were somewhat okay. The danger was when the kids would stop caring, when it didn't much matter anymore if the dad came or didn't come. Until then…it was easy, really.

"You know, my daddy's really goofy", David asserted matter-of-factly, smiling and looking up at Vance, "He makes faces and voices and when he reads me stories he always does…like the people in the book. He's _really_ funny." The little boy laughed slightly at the memory of a joke only he knew about, but Vance couldn't resist a smile either way.

"_That _he is."

"But…he's a really Special Agent, you know?", the six-year-old clarified with the air of sincerity coating his comment.

Vance held tightly onto his smile, even though it had gotten a bit crooked. "Is he now?"

"Ah-huh", David nodded his head eagerly, "'Cause where he's at in…in…Spain… He's like Uncle Gibbs to all people there."

"The big boss, huh?" David nodded and smiled, glad to have shared that bit of information with Director Vance. Just so that he knew.

Intrigued by the little boy's vantage point, Vance lowered his voice somewhat to a cunning whisper. "And what about your mom?"

David narrowed his eyes and leaned down on the table. "Mommy's-"

"Mommy is just that", came Ziva's voice from the door. David's head immediately jerked into its direction while Vance tried to wipe the smirk off his face as he turned his head slowly to meet Ziva's smile.

Ziva was very keen on her children's ignorance regarding her rather violent and gruesome past. She wanted their knowledge about her assassin's résumé to end at a vague feeling that their mommy could protect herself and them no matter what, wanted it to end at the faint understanding of why their daddy loved to call her his _'little ninja'_. She didn't want to explain, not yet. They didn't need to know. For now and for some time to come she would remain simply and entirely mommy to both Tali and David. She knew there would come a time when the picture of their mommy would be amplified by the constituent of an effectively functioning killer machine who had taken lives in the belief of just duty. It was an ambiguous thought to ponder, a complex amplification to grasp and she wanted to spare her children that complex ambiguity for as long as possible. In the meantime, she took her time to prepare herself for telling them bits and pieces of the full truth - the whole truth, she knew, nobody would ever know about her; period.

"How is your homework coming along?", she inquired softly, closing the door behind her and walking over to her son's chair, Vance following her with his eyes.

"Finished", he proclaimed proudly, showing her the empty table except for the piece of paper he had been drawing on during his little chat with Director Vance.

Ziva crouched down beside his chair and smiled. "Well, in that case I have a promise to keep, yes?"

"Auntie Abby's lab!"

"If you want, I can take him down with me. I was just about to check up on Ms. Sciuto's progress with the evidence myself", Vance cut in benevolently, his eyes winking at Ziva when she looked up to meet them.

"Well-"

"I'm sure Gibbs likes you working at your desk more than giving free tours", he quipped.

Ziva smiled knowingly. He was right after all. Still, it was more David's decision than hers. She had promised and she intended to keep that promise no matter the wrath of Gibbs. So, she looked up at her son, raising her eyebrows questioningly. "Would you mind Director Vance taking you to your Auntie Abby's lab?", she inquired softly.

"You kept me company almost all day. It's only fair I return the favor, right?", Vance cut in decidedly, getting up from his chair and gesturing towards the door with his free hand.

"'kay", David complied easily, nodding at his mom. Ziva straightened up and dropped a kiss on her son's head while she pulled out the chair for him.

He hopped down and ran over to Vance, who was holding the door open for him. For a second their eyes locked. "Now, about that mission we were talking about earlier…", Vance started and guided David out the door, but not before nodding affirmatively at Ziva who was watching them from her spot by the conference table. She was certain he knew how much she appreciated the knowing smile on his face.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Ziva resumed her place behind her desk in the bullpen just in time to watch McGee hang up on someone, his face contorted in silent frustration with a tinge of in-felt fury. Noticing her questioning stare, he sighed exasperatedly. Had the situation been any different or set in a longer forgone past, he knew Tony would now be saying something along the lines of _'Why so bothered, McGrumble?'_

"That Andrew Kent Ocean City PD faxed me a sketch of?", McGee started explaining. Ziva nodded. She had heard him argue with somebody on the phone before she had gone upstairs to visit David. "A sketch they made because…_apparently_…they had no digital camera that was working, no cell phones with camera function, no webcams on their computers or various other devices that would have made this ten thousand times easier?"

Ziva couldn't help but feel slightly amused by the traces of frustration humming along McGee's faintly high-pitched account. "Yes. The sketch that potentially looked like _our _Corporal Andrew Kent", she substituted calmly, trying to hold back the smile that was incessantly tugging at her lips.

McGee tilted his head to the side and smiled meekly. "_Apparently_, that Andrew Kent sitting in a cell in central Ocean City is actually…a _woman_ now…or _still_ or-"

"Something they did not care to share with you before?", Ziva inquired, her eyebrows narrowing and her smile slowly winning the struggle with her serene determination.

"Didn't seem to see why they should", McGee growled, shaking his head irritably and turning back to typing out this rather grating turn of investigative events in a conduct report.

Ziva raised her eyebrows, her expression that of tainted understanding. "Well, it would seem local LEOs are getting quite irritated by our continuing search."

"You blaming them?", McGee cried out, "We've been looking for the same guy for a week now. It's not like we keep harassing them for kicks. It's not like we're at the top of the food chain. Gibbs keeps harassing _us_ too-"

Noticing Ziva's eyes divert to a spot right behind him and widen discernibly, McGee broke off. He shut his eyes for a second, his head jerking forward in a distinct _'Drat!'_-motion. "-and Gibbs is standing right behind me, isn't he?", he continued more quietly than before. Turning around slowly in his chair, he found Gibbs staring blankly at him, taking a sip from his coffee. "Hi, boss. We were just-"

"-debating who's gonna eat you if you don't find me that Marine soon?", Gibbs inserted matter-of-factly, stepping around the file cabinets behind McGee's desk and entering the bullpen with purpose written all over his serene face.

"No, we're just…still looking…and looking even _harder_ now", McGee debriefed timidly, re-burying his head in the contents of his computer.

Gibbs fetched a stack of files from his desk and threw away his umpteenth cup of coffee of the day. Striding back upstairs, he barked upon passing McGee's desk, "I'm up in MTAC…briefing God." His crooked smile remained, once more, hidden behind his purposefully turned back.

Ziva couldn't help but smile in silent if a bit gleeful amusement. McGee somehow had a knack for catching himself in the Gibbs-universal trap more often and more cumbersomely than anybody else - a fact that reached way beyond his Probie days. Over the course of the next hour, however, McGee's mood did not seem to lighten. Working on her computer, Ziva couldn't help but steal numerous glances at her partner at the desk across from hers. He kept muttering one _'Damn it'_ after the other under his breath, his features set in frustrated stone.

Deciding to pry a little into this matter, Ziva started tentatively, "How's Abby?"

McGee looked up quickly, his eyes not divulging any kind of discernable emotion. "Abby's good…a little stressed out maybe what with all the work that's been piling up over the weekend and, you know, with her day off and the system crashing and all. But…it's okay…it's gonna be okay", he assessed evenly, a soft sigh ringing through.

Ziva nodded but narrowed her eyes at him, trying hard to read his nonchalant exterior with the slight edge to it. And she waited. She watched him resume his work for a few moments before he perked back up, a small smile playing on his lips now, "We're…actually going down to the orphanage today…"

"You are?" Ziva couldn't help but mirror his smile, genuinely happy for them.

"Yes…you know, finishing the paper work and…and…you know…_looking_", he ended evasively, the concept of somehow _looking for_ his child still sounding somewhat strange to him, but his smile persisted nonetheless.

Good half an hour later, after McGee had busied himself with several phone calls and Ziva had already been preparing to visit David again, the air around the bullpen changed. Ziva looked up to see McGee fall back in his chair, a look of dumbfounded triumph on his face. "I did it", he whispered to no one in particular.

"What?"

Ziva knew exactly what he had meant, but after a week's worth of wearisome search, the thought could not actually settle in her mind just yet. Instead, she got up and moved over to his desk to look at his computer screen. It was, of course, a _brand-new_ computer screen with a_ brand-new_ operating system and hand-picked applications that had made McGee's face light up and mood-change color like a whole day's joy of the Aurora Borealis phenomenon. On said computer she found some sort of contract gleaming back at her and she had no idea what it was.

"I did it, I found something", he repeated erratically, his eyes still plastered to the screen in grinning disbelief, "I gotta get Gibbs."

He jumped up and whirled around to leave, but Ziva held him back by the hem of his jacket. "He is in an MTAC meeting. Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"Yes", McGee insisted eagerly, pulling himself free from her serene grasp and hurrying upstairs. In a way, Ziva couldn't deny it, he was reminding her a lot of her own children when they proudly presented her with a fabulous new drawing or art work or other major accomplishment they were incessantly eager to receive adequate praise for.

* * *

Upstairs, McGee burst into MTAC rather artlessly and thus very much out of character. "Boss!", he called over to Gibbs, who was facing a magnified version of a woman clad in a black blazer and sitting behind a connotative looking solid wooden desk that seemed purposefully adorned with emblems, flags and insignia.

While the woman sported a rather irritated look at his interruption, Gibbs looked positively livid. "What, McGee?", he snapped, turning around to face his Senior Field Agent slowly.

"I did it, boss, I finally found something on Corporal Kent", McGee breathed excitedly, trying to keep his voice to a whisper while adrenalin was wreaking havoc in his body.

Gibbs instantly shoved his headset at Vance and led McGee out of MTAC, leaving the Director to smile meekly at the woman onscreen. "A major breakthrough in a case, Madam Secretary", he apologized quickly.

"I shall hope so", she retorted crossly, her eyebrows raised in magnified motion.

* * *

Hurrying after Gibbs down the stairs, straining to keep up with his boss' resolute stride, McGee commented, "I always knew God was a woman."

Gibbs stopped hard in his tracks just outside the bullpen, turning around into McGee's flustered face, and barked irritably, "You want me to eat you now or do you actually got something useful?"

"_Very_ useful", McGee proclaimed proudly, stepping around Gibbs with a triumphant smile and bending over his computer to cue its contents. Fetching the remote on his way, McGee went to stand next to Ziva and Gibbs in front of the plasma. On it Ziva was now facing the same contract she had seen before.

"What're we looking at?", Gibbs asked, squinting to read the small font.

"This, boss, is a sale contract for a property of two and a half acres in the woods near Brunswick, Maryland. And this", McGee explained and hit the remote to change documents onscreen, trying to hold onto an even and calm tone of voice despite his sheer eagerness, "-is the ownership deed."

Gibbs and Ziva unconsciously and simultaneously took a small step towards the plasma, trying to reveal what seemed to be so special about any one of the documents. Despite McGee's expectantly widened eyes, neither Gibbs nor Ziva uttered a word, however. "Look at the name of the current owner", McGee ushered their realization fervently and with a savvy flick of his fingers zoomed in on the corresponding dotted line on the deed: _John Letholdus Kent_.

"According to the previous owner, she sold the property three years ago to two Marines . Apparently, the transaction and subsequent settlement weren't entirely legal, that's why we didn't find any official data on Kent or Rivers explicitly listed in government databases", McGee elaborated.

"Then how did you find it?" Ziva's eyebrows rose questioningly as she turned towards her partner.

"I've been running a basic name search through…well, practically _all_ government databases. Yesterday I enhanced the parameters to a generic search", McGee answered easily, his continuously energized speech causing looks of slight irritation on both Gibbs' and Ziva's face, "Meaning the program started looking for any kind of name composition, the variables being both the Sergeant's and Corporal's first, last and second names. It was a longshot, but it worked." Now, the grin on McGee's face definitely reminded Ziva of her kids.

While Ziva's mouth gaped slightly open in awestruck astonishment, Gibbs voiced the most pressing question at hand, "And this helps us how?"

Slightly degraded by the ongoing necessity to spell his exceptional breakthrough out to both of them and thus taking all the ingenuous fun out of his accomplishment, McGee answered, "_Because_…as the previous owner assured me, the property comes with a small cabin in the woods that officials don't know about."

Realization kicking in with the weight of purpose, Ziva's eyes widened and Gibbs's jaw unclenched evidently. "Good work, Tim." When Gibbs turned around to step over to his desk, Ziva saw, once again, a proud grin settle on McGee's face that distinctly resembled Tali's or David's after they had received an admiring kiss or the pompous accolade for their work.

Sitting down at his desk and grabbing the phone, Gibbs demanded, "Get up there. I'll catch up with you, search party and all."

McGee spun around with a disbelieving look on his face while Ziva already went over to her own desk to grab her backpack. "You really think-", he started, but broke off when his eyes fell on Gibbs' raised eyebrows, "Right, you do."

The Senior Field Agent hurried over and fetched his backpack, already halfway to the elevator with Ziva slightly trailing behind. She faced Gibbs with an apprehensive expression on her face. Glancing up at her from where he had already pressed the phone to his ear, Gibbs could see that forces were battling inside of her. Quietly she uttered but a name, "David-"

"I'll tell him. Just go", Gibbs retorted urgently and Ziva couldn't help but trust him. And she trusted him, no matter what. Nodding appreciatively she left and stepped onto the elevator where McGee was holding its doors open for her impatiently.

* * *

**Maryland, Frederick County - near ****the city of Brunswick**

After a commute that seemed distinctly shorter than it should have been what with Ziva driving and driving with a purpose, they arrived at the intended property. Only a small dirt road led into the thickly feral woodside off the left side of the main road, which they had been following since passing through Brunswick about ten minutes before. McGee almost smacked his nose against the dashboard when Ziva hit the brakes upon his sudden yell, indicating the undisclosed passageway into an area that could lead to an even bigger breakthrough in their most bizarre of cases. The dirt road appeared to have been used only recently. Ziva sped down its track for about five to seven minutes when suddenly a quaint wooden cabin turned up ten yards beyond the NCIS car's hood. Ziva parked the car a little off the small road so that oncoming trucks could drive closer up to the cabin once they had secured the area around it, and the two agents got out, decisively clad in NCIS jackets and caps.

"There it is", McGee commented, his eyes scanning the cabin and its surrounding quarters.

The cabin seemed small, maybe three or four average sized rooms max, its wooden surface was weathered and moss covered most of its exposed, splintered and roughly treated logs. Several spots on the outside had been ineptly re-sealed and caulked with plywood shingles or slowly disintegrating grout. The bits and pieces of its platform roof they could make out appeared hardly safe. The front door, however, was a solid, massive wooden door and ostensibly the newest and only addition to the otherwise old and windswept structure. Its material matched that of the three small windows at the front and the one side window. Somebody seemed to have taken only crucial measures to render that in-wood lodge somewhat habitable.

With a simple glance over the top of the car, Ziva and McGee drew their guns almost simultaneously. Ziva quickly pointed to the left side of the house and McGee gave her a swift nod, their paths parting as they started securing the perimeter. Creeping onto the patio, which was made up of four five-inch planks, and careful not to cause any unnecessary creaking, Ziva pressed her back against the left-hand corner of the cabin. Leaning forward, she took a roaming peek through the side-window, then did the same with the front window to her left. McGee checked both windows on his side of the house, a concurrent nod assuring each other of no immediate and visible threats beyond the front partition. Stepping up to the front door, McGee reached for the knob, trying and finding the door unlocked, and waited for Ziva's nod, before he yanked it open and cleared Ziva's path to secure the entrance area.

"Clear!", Ziva called out and moved into the adjacent room, thus clearing the small bedroom.

They dispersed throughout the cabin, clearing a bathroom and a kitchen before they congregated back in a kind of living room in the back center of the cabin that was empty except for a glass jar placed right in the middle of it. McGee gagged and Ziva's eyes widened as they put their SIGs back into their respective holsters and their eyes fell onto the contents of the jar: in it, apparently preserved by some kind of alcoholic mélange, floated a pinkish-beige human brain, its two hemispheres perfect mirror images.

"Somebody is definitely sending us a message with this", Ziva assessed blankly. For all she had seen, a perfectly dissected human brain outside a morgue she had never seen before. There was a first for everything, but she had hardly believed it possible to go through many firsts in her line of profession anymore.

"We better start processing", McGee asserted quickly, bringing his forearm up to his mouth so he wouldn't vomit right into the middle of their newfound crime scene.

Was it a crime scene, though? Could he dub a scene a _'__crime scene'_ just because they kept finding body parts? They hadn't even found whoever the crime seemed to have been committed on, but something inside McGee - maybe it was something of a gut that was rearing its investigative head - told him that they would uncover the missing pieces of their Agatha Christie setup soon enough.

_Around half past five in the afternoon_ Gibbs arrived at the cabin, two trucks full of NCIS agents following his lead. McGee had called him for an initial report when he and Ziva had come back to the car and before they had embarked on an exploratory frenzy they had just about wrapped up when re-enforcements started crowding the scene. While the other agents started unloading their trucks and setting up a search base, McGee and Ziva met up with Gibbs at their car. They were just closing the trunk lid on the few pieces of possible evidence they had been able to attain.

Before Ziva could even open her mouth to ask, Gibbs answered her instantly raising eyebrows, "I called Sarah and dropped him off at your apartment on my way here."

Ziva smiled at him appreciatively. "Thank you."

"Now, the case?"

"Cabin itself was empty. Recent stains, scratch marks and burns suggest the kitchen was in use not too long ago. Somebody must have been here lately", McGee lunged easily into a sit rep.

"Which corresponds with the tire tracks on the road leading to and from the cabin. Whoever was here must have left those. We already made a print", Ziva cut in, slipping out of her latex gloves.

"We just hope Abby can run it, though, the soil up here's pretty frozen up, tracks aren't deep", McGee added, storing away their bags and evidence kit in the back of their car, "We bagged and tagged everything we could find inside the house _which_...wasn't much. All four rooms looked swept clean except for some dried substance on four different spots on the floor in the living room. We took a sample but it looked like dry adhesive."

"Fixed a tarp on the floor so they wouldn't leave traces."

"That is what we thought, yes", Ziva nodded, taking off her cap, "We found no traces of blood or other bodily fluids throughout the cabin."

"Brain the same one we already got ourselves a few pieces of?"

"Probably. There are matching scrapes at the top along the cortex."

"But no Kent", McGee stated finally, his voice dropping slightly, "But I guess you already knew that?"

Gibbs briefly tilted his head to the side, a small and crooked smile appearing on his lips for a split second. "Good work. Get the evidence to Abby."

"What about you?"

"Somebody's gotta supervise the search, Ziver", Gibbs retorted easily and already stepped around McGee who was blocking his path towards the cabin.

"So, you do believe Corporal Kent lies buried around here somewhere, yes?"

Looking around at the far-flung area and feeling the deep temperatures sting his exposed flesh, McGee blurted out disbelievingly, "That's gonna be one hell of a dig, boss."

"Hell's frozen up real good then, Tim." Gibbs' smirk stayed hidden as he turned to leave. When he didn't hear the bustle and hustle of his two agents scrambling into the car and driving off, he spun back around and looked at them expectantly, his eyebrows raised high enough to lay his forehead in wrinkles. "What? You forget how to drive an automatic?"

"No, it's not- Shouldn't we, you know, _stay_ and…_help_ you, or something?", McGee inquired awkwardly, his body half-turned towards Gibbs and the cabin.

"I donno. Should you, McGee?", Gibbs challenged, taking a step back towards them, "'Cause as far as I know you need to be at an orphanage." Before Ziva could open her mouth, Gibbs had turned to face her, giving her the same decisive look as McGee, "And you have your third kid coming home."

Both looked surprised and skeptical but Gibbs already knew they would eventually leave - and he was okay with it, he enforced it, really. Striding off into the direction of the cabin where the agents were already breaking the vast area up into smaller and quainter segments, he called back gruffly, "But you can always come back with a shovel if it doesn't work out for ya."

He knew they wouldn't but he didn't need them to either.

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_**I KNOW **a lot of people wrote Tony-enthused reviews but this is a case-fic as much as it is relationship-based, so bear with me; there's a big Tony-heavy two-parter coming up, lots of family-joy and family-angst. Consider your anticipation evoked that little bit more and please, as always: Review!_


	16. Show me the Way!  Part I

**Thank you **for your thoughts and reviews, even though I hope that **5 reviews **in total aren't an indication for waning interest in this story!

We are still in the **PAST**, but it's time for **Tony's return **to his family, so let the interaction-sparks fly - and it's a two-parter because both parts together would have been like 120,000 words and that's one tad too long a chap even for me! :) Second part coming up...soon-ish, wouldn't want to spoil your anticipation!

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**Mutual Q&A:**

**Zivafan:** I think it has been established - physical-experienc-y-wise - that the blue-eyed and the green-eyed man are the central anti-characters in a group of anti-characters. If you are willing to look close enough, especially in upcoming chapters, most subtle clues are in regard to the mystery of the blue-eyed man and his background...a mildly telling one indeed. And on a different note, David has been described to have emerald green eyes and _light brown hair_.

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**Chap 16 Show me the Way! - Part I**

_Wednesday, November 13__th__ 2018_

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

Maybe it were her ninja senses kicking in, her Mossad training or simply a mother's keen protectiveness towards her children, but Ziva always knew when one of them was up and about. She had never been a particularly deep sleeper, she had always been alert to the point of distrusting every sound around her. With her children, however, it was different. She found herself awake at the slightest movement in one of their rooms. Or rather, as was more common with Tali, when Ziva opened her eyes the little girl would already be standing beside her bed. Tali never wasted much time when she woke up. Something was different this time around, though. When Ziva opened her eyes and sat up she wasn't staring into her little daughter's expectant gaze right next to her bed but at her daughter's furrowed brows and tilted head at the footend across from her. Ziva followed Tali's puzzled look and her dark eyes fell on Tony's snoring outlines wrapped into the covers. Ziva tried to think of a time when this had happened before: Tali walking into their bedroom with both of her parents there. She couldn't think of one. Tony had left on assignment when Tali was only a few months old and Tali hadn't taken up her every-night commute to her mother's room until after his last visit.

"Come here, tateleh", Ziva coaxed, trying to keep her voice down to a whisper.

Ziva quickly glanced at her clock's green digits gleaming through the darkness on her nightstand: _3:37am_. McGee had picked Tony up from the airport only three hours ago. The kids didn't even know Tony was already there. There was a good chance Tali hadn't even realized that this was her father lying next to her mother, Ziva gathered. She held her arms out to her daughter and Tali hurriedly waddled over, Shim tightly clasped under her arm. Ziva bent over slightly and lifted the three-year-old into her lap, the little girl's face turned towards Tony.

"Did you want to visit me, yes?", Ziva whispered with a knowing smile, brushing a soft kiss against her daughter's temple.

Tali discarded her puzzlement over the man for a moment and turned her head to meet her mother's dark eyes with the same smile, both of them knowing that '_visiting'_ was the thinly veiled alias for Tali's outright refusal to sleep through the night in her own bed at the moment. Usually, Tali's swift relocation didn't call for further décor anymore, but somehow Ziva felt it necessary and somehow Tali seemed more alert and more awake right now than was her usual demeanor - usual demeanor relating much more to the way Tony was handling the current situation: fast asleep.

When Tali's curious eyes reverted back to Tony, Ziva put out a hand to brush back Tali's messy curls and leaned forward to whisper into her daughter's ear, "This is your daddy sleeping. He arrived with Uncle Tim when you had already gone to bed."

Tali swiftly locked eyes with her mother, trying to verify this kind of surreal information with Ziva's earnest expression. For Tali _'daddy'_ meant somebody she hardly knew, somebody she saw waving to her from computer screens, somebody her mother would point out in pictures and videos, telling her just how much he loved all of them but that he was working far, far away. The three-year-old didn't quite understand why working meant for her mommy to always be there and for her daddy to always be away. There was a lot she didn't understand about her daddy, a lot that didn't make sense about her daddy even if her mommy explained it to her or answered her occasional questions. _'Daddy'_ didn't seem much like a real and living person but more like the phantom of a vague idea, a compilation of assurances and explanations - a lot of which her three-year-old mind couldn't quite grasp with firm certainty._ 'Daddy' _was a curiosity, really.

Tali was trying to bend forward, trying to get a better look at the man beneath the covers, trying to compare him to the memories of all the pictures she had seen and the one big picture that her mommy had put up in her room right next to her bed. When Ziva realized that Tali was probably about to wake Tony up with whatever she was intending to do, however, she slung an arm around her daughter's middle and held her back.

Tali shot her a questioning look. "We shall let him sleep. He is very tired, you know", Ziva explained calmly, letting Tali settle back into her lap.

The little girl became very quiet, her gaze distantly fixed on her mother's arm that was still lazily draped around her. Ziva had to smile at the wheels she could literally see turning within her daughter's head, trying to process the situation and make sense of it in her three-year-old mind. Ziva had always known that the time would come when her children would start consciously questioning their living arrangement and yet would be too young to fully comprehend its complexity.

She was absentmindedly stroking Tali's hair when the three-year-old suddenly jerked up with the most pressing issue on her mind, "He stay?"

Ziva smiled warmly. "Yes, he will be staying with us for some time", she confirmed, knowing right well that they had talked about Tony's presence and the details of his visit over and over again. Then again, she also knew that the only one who had actually listened to her had been David.

Even though Ziva could have thought of a million more questions that could possibly bother her children about this new turn of events in their everyday routine, Tali seemed thoroughly pleased with her mother's answer and simply nodded her head. Spreading out the silence between them for a few more moments, leaving Tali a little more time to come up with another question, Ziva eventually deemed her daughter's issues dealt with - for the time being. "We must get back to sleep now as well, tateleh", Ziva said finally, raising her eyebrows at her daughter.

Tali only shook her head. "Don' wanna."

"But then you will be very tired in the morning."

"No here."

"You want to go back to your room?", Ziva elaborated, trying to hold back surprise and wonder at her daughter's most unusual request.

Tali nodded. "You too, mommy."

Suddenly, something in Ziva's mind clicked and she couldn't hold back a swift look of disappointment that thankfully went unnoticed by Tali in the shaded darkness of the bedroom. Ziva had hoped that Tali's attitude towards her father would at least have changed in the slightest since his last visit a few months ago. It had positively shattered her heart to see father and daughter so completely out of sync, even more so because Ziva knew, knew exactly how perfectly in sync those two could be. But Tali had been terribly shy around him, hanging onto Ziva and reverting to Hebrew whenever he had tried talking to the little girl. Nothing had helped their case, no prying, no reprimanding, no trick, no explanation.

Ziva sighed inwardly. "Beseder."

She lifted Tali off her lap and put her down on the floor next to the bed before taking the little girl's hand in hers. The three-year-old led her to the room across the hall where her fairy lamp was still bequeathing their incoming outlines with a faint shimmer of light. Tali climbed up and under the pink covers of her princess bed, pressing herself against the wall to make as much room as possible. Ziva smiled appreciatively at the sweet gesture and got in as well. Tali immediately snuggled up close to her, sighing contently.

"Chalomot tovim, neshomeleh", Ziva whispered into her daughter's hair.

As the little girl's breathing slowly turned into rhythmical signs of deep slumber, Ziva inwardly reminded herself to keep the Hebrew in their children's everyday life to a minimum again. It wasn't as if they didn't know to be careful with mixing their languages when talking to those around them who could only understand English, but _home _usually meant a certain freedom in that respect. What with Tony gone most of the year, their apartment was the place where they were understood, no matter what language they were talking in because it was almost exclusively Ziva they were talking to. Just like learning a language, the responsibility coming along with it was nothing short of a parallel learning process as well. They were children after all.

* * *

Thoughts and bittersweet anticipation running through her mind, Ziva didn't find sleep until way into the morning hours. She had ,been asleep for mere two hours when Tony's eyes shot open across the hall. When he finally realized that he was lying in the bed he and Ziva had chosen and bought after a massive fight over its size that had turned rather ugly and personally teasing right around the middle, he turned onto his back and plastered his emerald eyes to the ceiling. _He was home_. A grin crept onto his face when he remembered the very first night in said bed and how they had inaugurated its successful setting-up again and again…and again. Looking over at the clock, he realized he was awake way too early for keeping his reputation as he had direly gotten used to five hours of sleep max and hadn't yet made the transition to his holiday sleeping schedule. Things had definitely changed. Still, he couldn't contain a sweet smile upon realizing that he was clad in navy blue bedclothes that _Ziva_ had bought in the store. _He was home._ It was strange how, after all these years of in-between visits, it may have been hard to reset his inner clock but it wasn't at all hard to think of all the things around him as his true home. His home was where his family was. He knew that with his heart.

That's when he noticed that, even though the sheets were crumpled, Ziva wasn't lying next to him. Then again, Ziva was usually getting up at five in the morning for a run, right? Actually, he had no idea. He doubted that she would leave the kids on their own while she went for a morning run, so no, she probably wasn't. He knew Ziva had the morning off - she was still on standby, of course - and that she had called both schools the other day to excuse Tali and David. As usual, they would be easing them into changed dynamics and take their time. Could Ziva have shifted into Tony-home-mode that easily?

Deciding to put his investigative training to some good practical use, he got up to see for himself. Stepping into the corridor that connected all rooms on the upper floor, the silence that met him confirmed that no one seemed to be up except for him either. So, he decided to skim through the rooms. The first door was David's room and with the door slightly ajar Tony could make out the little boy's deep, slumbering breaths coming from inside. Peeking through the crack of the door that made for a good quick look at David's bed, Tony had to smile. Just like Ziva he was lying perfectly still on his stomach, his head turned sideways on the pillow. A smirk crept on Tony's face: _just like Ziva_. The little boy even had his arms linked beneath the pillow, though Tony doubted that he was gripping a gun as Ziva had so many years ago. A lifetime ago, Tony thought.

Tony stepped back and over to the door on his right: Tali's room. The dark wood of the door was almost invisible beneath all her drawings that Ziva had started putting onto the door for lack of room on the refrigerator or other traditional displaying-children's art-designated furniture. As he couldn't see the bed through the crack, Tony slowly pushed it open wide enough to get a better look at his daughter and was surprised to find Ziva's dark eyes staring back at him.

She was lying on her side, one arm propped up, the other quietly playing with Tali's hair, her body turned towards the sleeping girl that was taking up almost the entire bed for herself with her arms and legs stretched as far away from her as possible. Noticing the movement at the door she had turned her head to meet his quizzical look. He watched her place a soft kiss onto her daughter's forehead before carefully climbing out of bed. He felt mesmerized by the sight. He had always loved that special kind of smile that crept onto Ziva's face when she was looking at their children. Not that the smile she was giving him as they finally stepped out into the corridor together was any less sweet or earnest - just different.

"Good morning", he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her.

After all those years his kisses could still send tingles down her spine and as he placed his hands on the sides of her face to deepen the kiss, everything around them stopped to matter for the seconds being. She found herself gripping his shirt to pull him even closer, her eyes closing to the simple bliss of the moment. He started grinning against her lips and pulled away, "Good morning." His voice sounded strained for breath.

"You have said that already", she mirrored his grin, not meeting his eyes but running a hand across his shirt-clad chest.

"I have?", he returned playfully, cupping her chin and placing another sweet kiss onto her awaiting lips.

"Yes", her hand found its way to the four-day-old stubble on his face, "You have."

For another heartbeat they lingered, just looking into each other's eyes - emeralds meeting ambers. It was hard being apart for so long, but it never seemed harder than when they were together long enough to realize just what they were missing out on. But he couldn't just have kept his mouth shut and sizzle in the moment for a while longer.

"You always sleep in there?", he asked nonchalantly, "Didn't seem all that comfy."

Her grin quickly shrank back into a benevolent smile. "It certainly was not…comfortable", she answered slowly, adding in an afterthought, "And no, I do not usually sleep in Tali's bed."

"Why did you then?", he vaguely tilted his head downward, looking at her over the rim of non-existent glasses.

"Because she would not stay in our bed when she woke up in the early morning."

"Why-", he started but her look told him everything he might have voiced a question to.

His mouth was still gaping open with the question he didn't need to ask when David crept out of his room. Sleep was still very apparent in his drowsy eyes that landed immediately on the new fatherly arrival. Ziva turned around to her son when she noticed Tony's eyes locking with the little boy's behind her.

"Boker tov", she said softly.

David left his spot by the door immediately and shuffled over to her. He mumbled the same greeting into her nightgown as he pulled her into his morning hug, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. She kissed the top of his head but her eyes returned to Tony's at once. Ziva placed her hand on the small of her son's back and administered the slightest bit of soft pressure, upon which David left his mother's familiar embrace and stepped over to stand in front of his father. Father and son looked at each other momentarily, both searching for clues on the other one's face, both unsure about this very unfamiliar situation. Tony let out an inward sigh of relief, however, when David took one last step forward and engulfed him in a bear hug, a small smile tugging at the little boy's mouth. When Tony responded by linking his arms tightly around his son, Ziva couldn't contain her grin.

"Special breakfast?", David asked eventually, turning around in their embrace to face his mother.

"Of course", Ziva answered knowingly, holding out her hand to her son.

David stepped over, took her hand and guided both of his parents downstairs - Tony simply following Ziva's endearing smile for he had no idea what a _'special breakfast'_ entailed. Open double-doors led from the living room to the kitchen, so that one had a very audience-y view from the living room couch at whoever was busying themselves in the kitchen. In the doorway David turned around abruptly and stopped Tony with his outstretched palm.

"You stay here", the little boy instructed.

"The guest of honor stays in the living room while we prepare breakfast", Ziva elaborated upon Tony's befuddled expression. Tony only nodded with quietly raised eyebrows and placed himself dead-center onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh, crossed his legs and placed his hands on top of his knee as he leant back lazily, causing Ziva to shake her head at his dramatic antics.

Soon Tony was watching mother and son in the kitchen. One of the first things he had learned about Ziva David was that there was much more beneath the surface. She was a constant surprise to his prejudice-laden expectations of the Mossad liaison officer. In that sense she was a puddle of deep emotion and an aggregation of paradoxes clad in misleading coherence. And one of those paradoxes was her love for and adeptness at cooking.

David was kneeling on a stool at the counter. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration at whichever task was put in front of him. Ziva seemed to be levitating around him, dividing her attention between pancakes and scrambled eggs on the stove and their son. Whatever she was doing, David would always stare at her expectantly, awaiting to be of any kind of help, and Tony was amazed by how creatively Ziva kept including their son in the breakfast making process - even if it meant doing a lot of things twice or with double effort: Letting David break the eggs had her removing eggshells from the bowl afterwards. Letting him pour the juice had her standing behind him with a rag at the ready. Letting him stir the pancake batter had her redoing it. She didn't seem to mind, however, not skimping on praise and cheers for her son who beamed at her, obviously very pleased with himself. Tony realized that mother and son weren't cooking alongside each other for the first time but that they were acting in a comfortable and thought-through routine.

Eventually, Tony couldn't stand sitting in the living room anymore and got up, leaning against the doorframe and sporting a goofy grin as Ziva was cutting and adding vegetables to their scrambled eggs with David leaning onto the counter and looking on eagerly.

"Maybe you want to help your son set the table instead of ogling", Ziva requested without looking up.

Tony couldn't help but smirk, her ninja detecting skills still taking him by surprise from time to time. "I'm admiring not ogling, Zee-vah", Tony corrected over-dramatically, "But blimey… Am I even allowed to set the table, being the guest of honor and all?"

Ziva just turned around and narrowed her eyes at him, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "Being the guest of honor or not, you are conveniently three feet taller than your son. And I asked you to help him, not to do it yourself", she explained calmly, her smile ringing through while she turned back to David. "Will you show your daddy how to set the table, yes, tateleh?"

"Yep." David nodded eagerly, using his mother's outstretched hand to hop down from the stool. He pushed the stool back to its customary place and took a stand in front of Tony, who looked at his son expectantly.

"Plates", David commanded, causing Tony to stand up straight and salute.

"Plates- Where?"

David put a hand to his forehead and shook his head at his father. Ziva had a hard time containing her laughter while putting the finishing touches to their breakfast. The little boy eventually put out his hand and pointed towards the cabinet above the stove.

Tony followed his son's lead, opened the cabinet and moved to take out three plates when David cut in, "Don't forget Tali's."

Tony roamed the inside of the cabinet until his eyes landed on what looked like a plastic plate with the picture of a prince and princess on it - at least that's what Tony gathered from faded crown-like thingies on their heads. He took that plate as well and put it on top of the other three, turning back around to his son with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Table", David continued, already bouncing out into the living room.

Tony looked at Ziva questioningly and she nodded, "Special breakfasts take place in the living room. That is their special secret."

Tony was hit by sudden realization, his mouth forming a perfect_ "Ah"_ when David suddenly stuck his head back into the kitchen, calling aggravatedly, "Daddy, the plates."

"On my way, dear Sir", Tony called back immediately, trying to salute again with the plates in his hands. David shook his head again and turned back into the living room, a smile tugging at his lips.

"You know, he gets that from you, my bossy ninja", Tony whispered to Ziva, leaning over for a peck on the cheek before setting out for the living room and his genetically authoritative son. Ziva just smiled a knowing smile.

While Ziva put food and drinks on the table, father and son discussed table decorations and seating arrangements - or rather, Tony would suggest, David would contradict and eventually they would settle for David's choices. Ziva couldn't help but wholeheartedly enjoy the little banter between father and son, wishing they could have them every day of the week. She was actually very surprised at how unperturbedly David seemed to take Tony's visit, how easy he seemed to slip into this very different routine with his father there. Ziva wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but she was certainly not willing to spoil her own delight with dwelling on it too much.

David and Tony had ultimately agreed upon a seating arrangement where the two most important men in Ziva's life took up the seats on the floor between couch and coffee table. She was just stepping out of the kitchen with Tony's coffee and her tea, grinning at David's unnerved instructions for Tony on how to cut his eggs, when her eyes fell on Tali standing at the foot of the stairs, staring at her fatherly extended family in drowsy befuddlement.

"Is this whole Monk-attitude about food normal or-", Tony started playfully but broke off when all he caught of Ziva was a glimpse of her staring at a spot behind him. Then suddenly, she put down their two mugs on the table and stepped out of his view.

He turned around just in time to see her crouch down in front of Tali. "Good morning, tateleh", she said softly, stroking over her daughter's wayward curls.

"Boker tov", Tali mumbled, leaning forward and putting her head against her mother's shoulder.

"Someone is still sleepy", Ziva observed with a knowing smile, brushing a kiss against her daughter's temple.

When curiosity got the best of her, however, Tali lifted her head again and looked over to the couch where her eyes met Tony's. He dabbled in forming an enthusiastic smile. Tali immediately put her head back down, burying it in the crook of her mother's neck. Tony couldn't help but feel disappointed: It was true, Tali's attitude hadn't changed one bit. Ziva could feel her daughter tense in her arms and she had a pretty good idea why. She put her arms around the little girl, lifted her up and walked over to the breakfast table.

"Look, we made a very special breakfast for your daddy", Ziva spoke softly, drawing circles on Tali's back.

Tali lifted her head just enough to glance at the breakfast table and steal a quick look at David, who was already halfway through his eggs but who had stopped eating upon noticing his sister's oddly timid behavior. "Boker tov, achoti", he called enthusiastically but Tali's only reaction was to put her head sideways against Ziva's shoulder and raise her hand to her mouth, pressing two small fingers tersely between her lips.

With unyielding resolve Tony finally stood up from the floor and tilted his head to meet Tali's chocolate brown eyes. "Good morning, princess", he said gently, smiling at his daughter. Tali watched him curiously at first, but then opted for burying her head in Ziva's neck once again.

"Do you not want to say hello to your father, tateleh?", Ziva asked tenderly.

"Lo."

"Why not?", Tony cut in, trying to hold back his disappointment.

Tali, however, did not answer but slung her arms around Ziva's neck as well, hiding her face completely. Tony tried to place his hand on his daughter's shoulder, but the little girl flinched at his touch, letting out a small growling sound. Still, determined to make some kind of contact with his daughter, Tony started stroking the little girl's shoulder despite her rejection. Tali kept trying to shake off his hand without lifting her head but Tony simply wouldn't budge.

"Tony…", Ziva warned, Tali's abrupt movements making it hard for her to keep a firm hold on her daughter.

"I just-"

"Azov oti!", Tali squealed suddenly, raising her head just enough to make her full discomfort known.

Tony immediately drew back his hand, looking at Ziva with desperation glistening behind his eyes. Ziva just looked back at him helplessly, shaking her head slightly. That's when he realized any further effort would be futile - _for now_. So he could only watch as Ziva started rocking Tali in an attempt to calm the little girl down.

"Tali, look at me", she said quietly, "Look at mommy, tateleh." The little girl eventually followed her request and raised her head from Ziva's neck, leaning back in her mother's arms. Ziva couldn't help but smile at her daughter's bright red head, "We will eat breakfast now, shall we?"

"Lo…aruchat boker", Tali mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

"Are you not hungry?"

"Lo."

"Very well then."

Ziva shrugged her shoulders with a knowing glisten in her eyes. She stepped over and sat down on the other side of the table, facing her son, who had resumed eating now that the goings-on didn't engage his full attention any more, and Tony, who eventually settled back down, his lightheaded mood gone for good, however. Ziva arranged Tali in her lap, so that the little girl faced into the same direction, but unlike Ziva the three-year-old kept her eyes stubbornly plastered on the table, refusing to look up and meet her father's eyes. Ziva could see the hurt and disappointment in Tony's eyes and her heart broke for her life partner every time she caught him glance into Tali's direction. The three-year-old didn't give into her own curiosity, though, and instead followed the movement of her mother's hands all over the breakfast table. She had to admit, she was kind of hungry - something Ziva knew only too well. She knew her daughter and - just like Tony - one simply had to ignore Tali's antics for a short while and the little girl wouldn't be able to resist her urges for food or entertainment or an audience for all too long anyway.

A few minutes later Ziva was in the middle of buttering a slice of bread per Tali's conceding request when her cell phone started ringing. Ziva tried lifting Tali out of her lap to stand up, but the little girl wouldn't budge. Tony, watching them intently, moved to stand up and get the phone for her, but Ziva waved him off, "It's okay."

Sighing, she straightened up with Tali still in her arms and went over to the kitchen counter to fetch her cell. Shifting Tali onto her hip, she flipped it open. On the other end Gibbs' voice spoke calmly down the caller line. "Found Corporal Kent. We're taking him back to NCIS right now. Abby's already on her way in."

Ziva looked uneasily towards Tony who was dividing his attention between following her every grimace and his son. He seemed perfectly fine with David. A sideways glance at Tali perched against her told an entirely different story, however. The little girl had her head firmly placed against her shoulder, two fingers persistently and nervously mangled between her lips. Ziva sighed inwardly. "I will be there shortly, Gibbs."

"I didn't say that", he retorted, a small smirk barely audible, "Get them settled first. Sit rep at sixteen hundred."

* * *

Finishing breakfast around midday and seeing as the weather outside was everything but inviting for faraway ventures, they decided to spend the rest of the day - at least until Ziva's departure would cause further rupture - wrapped up inside. And it went along quite peacefully, too. Tony shifted his attention mostly to David as Tali continued to cling to Ziva. He couldn't have done much else, he figured. The little girl avoided his glances and him altogether, mumbling shreds of Hebrew he had no hope of understanding despite her mother's soft yet adamant and continuing reprimands and raised eyebrows. Ziva knew Tali understood right well that she wasn't supposed to be talking to Tony in Hebrew, but she doubted her daughter's resistance stemmed from her outright lack of understanding.

They ordered pizza, played games in which one team persistently consisted of Ziva and Tali, and watched movies. One definite perk of the afternoon was David's constant awe with his father's movie-quoting and movie-maniac skills and their shared infatuation with Disney movies. Yes, good ole Disney's movies were a particular and acquired taste of Tony's Ziva hadn't known about until David had been six months old. Tony had always been secretly envious of the bonding Ziva could share with their infant son through nursing and thus had decided to comprise their own father-son-exclusive rite of bonding. When met with David-duty from then on, Tony had simply taken the little boy downstairs, plucked in a Disney movie of his choice, put it on mute and started recounting their plotlines in his own, garnished words while David, safely cradled in his father's arms, would slowly drift back to sleep. Ziva had often come downstairs just to watch them from her covert position by the foot of the stairs, just to watch them and cherish the memories.

Later on Tony insisted they take a little family trip and drop Ziva off at NCIS headquarters. Ziva knew some part of him wanted to give Tali as long as possible to warm up to the idea of several Ziva-free hours and another part of him wanted to take out his beloved Ford Mustang Convertible. Ziva volunteered to get both kids ready so as to leave Tony to perform his very own and very special reverse Swan Song to his car, caressing it and whispering loving words of need. Before Tony had left for Spain, Ziva had once - _only_ once - made the suggestion of selling the car since it only took up garage space and its cold maintenance and depository cost a serious amount of money. Never again had she tried suggesting such an unthinkable thing if only to avoid listening to Tony scream bloody blasphemy for hours on end.

The light mood that had accompanied their short commute as Tony kept listing the various perks of owning a Ford Mustang Convertible changed the moment Tony pulled over outside NCIS headquarters' main entrance. Ziva shot Tony an apprehensive but hopeful glance before she leaned over and planted a slow kiss on his lips. She knew they held on a few heartbeats too long for it to be only a chaste kiss goodbye but they were both longing for each other more than they seemed to realize. Placing a gentle hand on the side of his face, she pulled back. She searched his eyes with hers and a tremor trickled down her spine. Returning his alluring smile, she stepped out of the car.

Tony turned towards the backseat just in time to catch the sudden look of shock on Tali's face as her chocolate brown eyes started darting around the vehicle and the scenery outside, shuffling nervously in her booster seat. "Tali-", Tony started, shifting in his seat so that he could get a better look at his daughter.

But he stopped short in his attempted soothing when Ziva opened the door on Tali's side of the car and squatted down to look at her daughter. "Mommy has to go to work, tateleh", she explained softly, caressing Tali's wayward curls. Ziva's eyes quickly diverted to the other side of the backseat to meet David's understanding smile. The little boy turned and winked at his dad and Tony was glad he could at least count on his son's cooperation.

"No, mommy, come too", Tali whined, tears already brimming in her eyes. She flung herself forward as far as her car seat's harness system would let her, merely far enough to graze Ziva's neck with her small fingers.

"Everything will be alright, you will see." Ziva glanced over at her son for reassurance and David nodded his head.

The little boy leaned towards his little sister. "We're gonna have lotsa fun. Promise", he assured her, patting her arm slightly.

Tali still didn't seem entirely convinced, but the flood of tears in her eyes subsided before it could even cascade. "Home soon?", was everything she uttered, looking at Ziva with hopefully widened eyes.

"Yes, really soon", Ziva promised and leaned up to embrace her daughter in a reassuring hug. Placing a quick kiss on David's forehead and smiling at him appreciatively, she straightened back up and carefully shut the door.

Seeing Tony look at her as if his emerald eyes were sighing, she placed her hand flat against the car window on his side while waving to her children with the other. She knew he would understand. She followed her partner's smile and Tali's continually sad expression as Tony started the engine and slowly backed out of the Navy Yard. Watching them go, she couldn't help but hope everything would be alright and she wouldn't return home to a battlefield of Shakespearean scope.

Inside the building she left her bag at her desk and, not finding anyone in the bullpen, immediately took the elevator on the other side of the squadroom down to Abby's lab where the forensic specialist, McGee, Ducky and Gibbs were already waiting for her. Noticing Abby's questioning look, Ziva realized she must have still looked a little flustered. Mouthing_ 'Later' _to her best friend, she nodded towards Gibbs and took a stand next to her boss in front of the plasma.

After sharing a knowing look with McGee, Abby conjured up a picture of the tire-track-print McGee and Ziva had taken outside the cabin the day before. Her results appeared right next to it. "No thanks to the Weathergods I had to mould a 3D image out of the surface tracks before I could even think of launching the more accurate search in that brand-new, federal law enforced database for exclusive brand tires, but-", Abby explained quickly and with a click made the picture of a car appear onscreen, "I matched the tire tracks to a Chevrolet Malibu Classic, a four-door hatchback sedan."

"I'm already running down the names of owners within the Tri-state area, matching them to criminal, military and international databases, boss", McGee cut in decidedly, receiving a vague nod from Gibbs.

"Then I tested the soil samples from the spot Kent was buried in and I found remains of a synthetic fibre. I let Major Mass-Spec do his magic and _voilà_, the fibre belongs to a material commonly used for trunk carpeting in a series of cars and-", Abby's fingers flying over her keyboard produced a list of cars on the plasma, causing both Gibbs and Ziva to take a step forward, "-here's the rug."

"The Chevrolet Malibu Classic among them", Ziva asserted, her eyebrows rising definitely.

"Right. So my guess is, whoever buried Corporal Kent kept their shovel in the back of their car", Abby elaborated.

Seeing as nobody else reacted, Ziva turned around to face Abby with a pensive expression on her face. "So, the body is definitely Corporal Kent?"

"Definitely and DNA approved", Abby retorted, biting down on her bottom lip. A savvy click later the picture of Kent in Marine uniform appeared onscreen. "According to the samples and crime scene photos the soil surface of Kent's unintentional grave was frozen up-"

"Everything up there is frozen, Abby", McGee interjected, his knowing look quickly shrinking beneath Abby's benevolent scowl, however.

"You know better than to interrupt my roll, Timmy", Abby tilted her head seductively before she turned back to her computer upon Gibbs' impatient grunt, "Meteorological records show that the first real freeze of the season occurred on November 5th, two days _after_ Rivers and Kent were killed. The Corporal was buried earlier than Tuesday last week."

Ducky, thus far silent and unmoving behind McGee and Abby, stepped forward and eyed Gibbs and Ziva through a crack between the computers. "The Corporal's time of death coincides with Sergeant Rivers', suggesting they were killed in quick succession, most likely even standing right next to each other. The Corporal bears the same wound, was killed with the same knife, the same precision and with the same result, I am afraid", he explained evenly, his voice divulging the heaviness of crime.

"Just that Kent is also missing a hand, an eye, an ear and his skull has been sliced open so that they could remove his brain", Abby added, her eyebrows rising from where she was leaning around her computer to look at Ziva and Gibbs.

"What about that, Duck?", Gibbs inquired plainly, stepping around the desk to face his oldest friend.

Ducky un-crossed his arms and leaned against the desk. "All cuts were administered post mortem, consistent with the lack of blood loss and haemorrhaging around the edges. The degrees of decomposition of each body part, factoring in variations in temperature and judging by the state of the Corporal's corpse, imply that the parts were severed consecutively and within a short time frame before the Corporal's body was buried."

"Anything to say about the one who did this to him?", Ziva asked.

"Yes, the incisions are very telling indeed", Ducky nodded his head, motioning for Abby to put up the pictured of the body parts from the autopsy file while he stepped around the desk to take a stand next to Ziva in front of the plasma, indicating with his hands, "The wounds suggest that hand and ear were severed with a common rip saw, but regardless of the brute device both cuts were comparatively straight and steady, end-to-end."

"Ripper didn't hesitate", Gibbs affirmed.

"That's right", Ducky raised his index finger and turned around to face them, "We are dealing with somebody who is not repulsed by the putrid smell of flesh, by the decaying body or by the sanctity of death. Most likely our killer was also the one to lead the saw in these cases. This is a person who is used to executing plans at all cost, who does not heed the human sacrifice along the way. It is most _unlikely_ that our killer has _never_ killed before."

"Obsessive serial killer?", McGee perked up, a trace of apprehension clearly audible.

Ducky shook his head decidedly. "I don't think so, Timothy. The body was discarded, the body parts themselves only a means to an end, a means of _transportation_ - the transportation of a message, of a _clue_ to the next stage. It is the staging that is important, not the killing, not the dissection. The lack of a pattern clearly linked to the murder itself does not fit the profile of a serial killer, even though I am by no means an expert on that subject."

"Skill over lust", Gibbs asserted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"I do believe so, yes. But, I am afraid, we are dealing with two different rippers here", Ducky assessed finally, pointing towards the remaining pictures on the plasma, "The eyeball was removed much more delicately, probably using a scalpel. The same goes for the opening of the skull. Whoever sliced the poor Corporal open knew exactly where to apply their murderous device. The plan called for the eyeball and the brain to remain in meticulous condition, so that the metal chip could be inserted into the vitreous body and the brain could be preserved within the jar. I think our killer knew when to step back for the sake of the plan."

"Trained pro."

"That is exactly why we will never find either the murder weapon or these devices", Ziva stated matter-of-factly, no trace of apparent emotion detectable in her voice.

They looked at her quizzically, taken aback by her sudden bout of pessimism. Gibbs, however, nodded his head and stepped back up to the plasma, his eyes scanning over the pictures for the umpteenth time. "I doubt any of it still exists."

"It is what I would have done, yes", Ziva declared, her eyes planted on Gibbs' perceptive nod, while behind them Abby and McGee were once again reminded of a time when they thought of Ziva as Mossad and not NCIS. Yes, that was a long time ago, but it wasn't over. Ziva had been trained as an assassin, a past she would never be able to deny. Her mad skills came in handy, however, for her much differing present.

"Our major league ripper lived up to his alleged reputation too", Abby continued seamlessly, "I found a miniscule fingerprint on the lid of the brain-jar, but it's useless as long as I have no finger to match it up to. I can't search national databases with a quarter of a print. Even with narrowing them down geographically we'd get like thousands of possible hits. I'm still not done processing the Corporal's clothes... But I'm starting to doubt the inevitable, forensic, Abby-purated comeuppance here. Everything you brought me from the crime scene either didn't produce any new and thrilling results or didn't even qualify for any kind of run-down. I confirmed the substance on the living room floor as an adhesive usually found on duct tapes. Somebody definitely tried securing something on the floor. But...this was all like a _teaser_ for Major Mass-Spec and me without serving..._anything_ else! No main course, no dessert, not even after-dinner coffee."

As if on cue, Gibbs reached behind some folders on the table beneath the plasma screen and conjured up a more or less fresh CafPow, which he handed to Abby with a small, crooked smile on his face. Abby took the cup from his outstretched hands and grinned back at him appreciatively and somewhat appeased.

"Emulating the results on Sergeant Rivers, the Corporal did not know his end was nigh either. Doctor Palmer and I did not find any defensive wounds on knuckles or extremities, no hair fractures or cuts", Ducky picked up again.

"Drugs?"

"Possible", Abby answered, slipping the straw out of her mouth, "I'm still waiting for the results on the contents of his stomach and the full blood test, but according to Ducky the Corporal's been dead for about ten days. If our killer is the pro we think he is, it's not likely that whatever narcotic they might have given Kent will still be traceable. I didn't get any results on Rivers' tox screen either, even though we found him within hours of his death."

"Narcotics are not imperative here", Ziva stated, leaning up against the desk and looking on intently, "These fatal wounds on Kent and Rivers are proficiently precise. The opponent is dead within seconds of inflicting the wound. Somebody as skilled and experienced as that would not bother with drugs. A thumb trap, hitting a pressure point or simply covering the other one's mouth would suffice-"

"But they were both trained Marines", McGee argued, struck by Ziva's thorough account.

"Both drunk", Gibbs cut in.

Ducky nodded. "_And_ Sergeant Rivers was suffering from a severe overreaction."

Ziva straightened up to her full height, her face serene with awareness. "For every fight there is a weapon."

Gibbs scoffed. "And our guy sure knew how to use his."

* * *

_I call it: End of Act One, Chapter 16. You might want to call it a reason to **review **- please do so indeed. At this point by the way, if the case per se interests you, revisiting (very) past chapters on account of intel acquired during this very chapter is definitely advisable!_


	17. Show me the Way! Part II

**General breath of thought I need to release:**

**Characters **in (fan)fiction should, in my honest opinion, not be perfect. They should have flaws and make mistakes. It's the _'should have'_s that in part make us care about them - may that be a parenting technique or a reaction or a specific behavior. It's what they make out of it, how they live with it - I know, I'm really quoting my McGee-version here - that make them who they are and that which makes them the characters we love to see and read about. It's your right to oppose that assertion but it is how this story is conducted :)

**

* * *

****THANK YOU FOR YOUR THOUGHTS AND REVIEWS - **always a pleasure to read and think about, especially since most of your questions should be answered in this here second part of the chapter!

* * *

**Chap 17 Show me the Way! - Part II**

_Wednesday, November 13__th __2018 - around 5:00 pm_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Finishing the sit rep, Gibbs immediately left for the elevator to go brief Director Vance on the new turn of events. Ducky came along to assist in the report to Navy officials as to the death of two of their members. As Abby was finished for the day, seeing as she had been cooped up in her lab since earlier in the morning, Ziva assured McGee she would pick up some slack, so that they could go down to the orphanage again. According to Abby's eager and excited account, their last visit had been like a dream come true, even though it had still been a much more general thing. Today they would actually get to meet some of the babies there. Ziva could tell by the wistful smiles on both Abby's and McGee's face that they were more than ready to become parents. Yes, Abby's heart ached for all those kids she couldn't just scoop up and take home with her and had to leave in the dreary day-to-day of an orphanage, but she couldn't hide her joy at the thought of getting to at least take home _one_ of them. And who was to say it would be their last child? When Abby flung herself into the agitated story of a two-day-old newborn that had been brought in just when they had been about to leave, Ziva couldn't help but detect the sprout of affection and smiled. She knew McGee's offer to take on some of Ziva's work so she could get back to Tony and the kids was sheer and noble courtesy, so she heartily declined and genuinely returned the offer. If Tony had to deal a little longer with their current present, just so that Abby and McGee got to work on their future, then so be it.

When the three of them entered the bullpen, however, still immersed in their conversation, they didn't notice that somebody was waiting for them. Tali practically cashed into Ziva's legs. Thoroughly surprised, Ziva bent down and scooped the little girl up into her arms. The three-year-old slung her arms around her mother and buried her face in the crook of her neck. Ziva could do nothing but stare questioningly over at Tony, who was leaning up against her desk with David by his side.

"The moment you were out of sight she pitched a tantrum that would put Banshees to shame", Tony explained plainly. A small smile was adorning his face, but Ziva looked right through it. She knew it hurt him more than he would ever let show.

Ziva opened her mouth to speak, even if she didn't know what to say, but Abby was faster. "Tony!", she screamed at the top of her lungs and sprinted towards him as fast as her plateau boots would carry her, embracing him in a bear hug.

A laugh slipped from Tony's mouth as she practically crashed into him.

"How wonderful to see your smiling faces again! I've never known such warmth, such welcome, such loving hospitality", Tony boasted out with the air she left him, putting his arms around her. David looked on with a big smile on his face.

McGee rolled his eyes. "Tony..."

Tearing himself away from Abby, Tony threw his arms to the side almost as if he was about to belt out an aria. "I sense enthusiasm, I sense loving response. And that's why I feel this is my home..._away _from home."

"_'Pete's Dragon'_... Really?", McGee raised his eyebrows at him.

"Well, there's kids present, McG-Rating."

"God, you're lookin' hot, man", Abby asserted, her eyes roaming his 6'2'' of bodily presence, "Like the new and improved Latino version of yourself."

His forehead creased in wrinkles. "That's a compliment, right?"

Abby smiled and McGee stepped up to Tony and the two men embraced in a chaster hug than the one Abby had given him. "Good to have you back", McGee smiled when he pulled back.

"Good to _be_ back."

McGee turned and ruffled David's hair. "Well, buddy, that means your dad's taking you to the game this weekend, huh?"

David looked up at Tony with hopeful eyes. Tony quickly glanced at McGee's benevolent expression and then raised his eyebrows at his son, "How 'bout a boy's night out, complete with light cokes and cherry lollipops, all three of us? Show your Uncle McGee the DiNozzo way of life?"

David nodded his head excitedly, shifting his hopefully wide, blazing green eyes to his Uncle McGee. "Who wouldn't want to get DiNozzo-ed, right?", McGee agreed with strained enthusiasm, eliciting an ingenuous _"Yay"_ from David and a DiNozzo-approved grin from Tony.

Abby, finally tearing her eyes away from the boy-display, looked over at Ziva who had taken a seat behind her desk with Tali in her arms. The little girl was still clinging to her mother. "If you want, we can take Tali with us, David too...get some dinner-"

Ziva shook her head decidedly, a smile of appreciation on her face. "You two go and work on your own little family. We will be alright", she assured her.

"Okay, but...call if you need to...you know..._talk, _whenever _'later'_ may be", Abby declared quickly while hugging both Ziva and Tali goodbye. With another wave to Tony and David, Abby and McGee left for good.

Watching the elevator doors close on them, McGee's arm protectively slung around Abby's waist and her head resting on the former Probie's shoulder, Tony couldn't help but realize that with his assignment in Spain he had missed almost every important stage in their relationship. It had taken them much longer to realize that neither of them would find anyone more understanding and unquestioningly devoted to each other than...well, _each other_. While Ziva's and his story was fuelled by much more haste passion, Abby and McGee had drifted towards each other at glacial space - but they wouldn't have wanted it any other way either.

Turning back around towards his own family, Tony's eyes fell on Tali curled up in Ziva's lap. "I would take them home and leave you to your desk, but...", he started quietly, searching her eyes for traces of menace or fury. He found neither.

"I know", Ziva answered, a small smile tugging at her lips, "Just...leave Tali with me."

"But-"

Before Tony could protest, however, Ziva turned to her son. "That will give you two a chance to do...whatever it is that men do", she tried to sound enthusiastic and cheerful and as if they were doing all this on purpose.

Tony, picking up on her strategy, scoffed playfully and squatted down in front of David. "You hear that, bud? Whatever it is that men do! _Man-stuff_, of course."

David grinned at his father for a moment, but then turned around and looked over the rim of the desk towards his mother. "You not coming home yet?", he inquired, trying to sound casual.

Ziva held out her hand and David stepped around her desk to stand in front of her. She slightly leaned over as far as the three-year-old in her lap would allow, and caressed his cheek. "I just got here, tateleh. And I still need to do some work. But your daddy knows a lot of fun things to do and I will be home in a little while."

David, a pensive look on his face, glanced at his sister and the way the little girl was tightly holding onto Ziva's shirt. "Tali stayin' here too?"

"Yes."

Ziva watched him nod and the understanding expression settle on his face. He understood, just as Ziva had hoped and feared. Yes, the ambivalence of motherhood, really. A part of her really wanted David to lash out somehow and she didn't know why. She knew that lashing out had been her first instinct and reaction as a child. She was afraid she was merely projecting her own instincts into her son, but still, sometimes his understanding, his consideration worried her. Ziva placed a sweet kiss goodbye on her son's forehead as Tali waved at her brother. Tony came over and leant down, smiling apologetically at his partner. Ziva simply placed a hand on the side of his face, smoothing his unruly eyebrow down with her thumb, and met his lips. For a moment she could forget, for the fleet moment of a kiss she so seldom received, she could forget that their situation right now was everything but easy.

When they broke apart, Tony quickly glanced at Tali, a quizzical look in his embezzled eyes, but the little girl didn't look up to meet them. Putting on a smile, he rested his hand on David's shoulder and with another wave they left. Ziva chuckled to herself when Tony's voice was carried back to her from the elevator, "What do ya mean your mom didn't teach you to play poker?"

Waiting a few more heartbeats after the elevator doors had shut close, Ziva tilted her head forward and looked down at Tali in her arms. She brushed a few defiant curls away from the little girl's face, finding her daughter smiling back at her contently. "Are we happy now, yes?", Ziva inquired, a reprimanding note finding its way into her voice.

Tali nodded her head quickly, her smile growing a bit more mischievous as she sat up in Ziva's lap. Ziva shook her head disbelievingly, a soft sigh leaving her lips. Tali merely put a chubby hand on each side of Ziva's face and placed a sloppy kiss on Ziva's lips. "Wuvs ya, mommy", the little girl declared sweetly, smiling all the way.

Ziva, putting some of Tali's hair behind the little girl's ear, chuckled at her daughter's sweet gesture. "I love you too, tateleh", Ziva said, but her tone grew sterner, "But you know you should not have screamed in the car just before, do you?"

Tali nodded her head degradedly, her smile fading. Ziva cupped the little girl's chin, a good-natured smile on her face. "I know that you do not know your daddy very well, Tali." Ziva was determined to finally have this conversation. It was long overdue. She knew she would have to have the same conversation again soon, and again and again. After all, Tali was only three years old, a little girl, _her_ little girl.

Ziva looked at Tali intently, waiting for her to show some sign of diminutive understanding. Suddenly, Tali's eyes re-focused. "'fraid", she conceded simply and earnestly, gazing at Ziva with big brown eyes, subconsciously kneading some of Ziva's shirt in her small fist.

A sad smile tugged at Ziva's lips. "You are a bit afraid of your daddy, yes, tateleh?" Tali nodded her head. Ziva kept brushing her fingers through her daughter's hair, a small and simple caress that always calmed her little girl.

"No like you leaves", Tali stated matter-of-factly, letting go of Ziva's shirt and instead grabbing her mother's hand.

"But you do not have to be afraid of your daddy, neshomeleh. He loves you very, very much."

Tali nodded her head somewhat distractedly, still processing that very fact. Ziva watched the little girl closely, asking herself what exactly _'afraid'_ might mean in Tali's three-year-old understanding. She guessed, quite accurately at that, that Tali was still weary to trust somebody she hardly knew. And she hardly knew Tony, he had never given her a chance to get to know him. For a little girl that seemed exuberant and over-active, Tali could be very shy around people she didn't trust and she quite simply wasn't used to Tony's presence - especially his _lone_ presence.

They remained silent for some time, until Ziva leaned forward and whispered into Tali's ear, "You are mommy's big girl, nu?"

Tali nodded her head frenetically, "Be'tach!"

Ziva smiled at her daughter, always loving the way her native Hebrew sounded with Tali's voice, every T softer than it should have been, every guttural tremor but a soft breeze of exhalation. Holding onto her whisper, Ziva faced the little girl now, "Can you promise me something then?"

"Ah-huh."

"Can you try and go easy on your daddy, Tali?", Ziva requested softly, knowing she would have to slowly specify her hopes in order for Tali to comprehend, "Talk to him in _English_, no Hebrew around your daddy. No shouting at him, no kicking. Listen to him. You will see, you do not have to be afraid of him."

Tali looked at her with wide eyes, mulling her mother's words over in her mind. "Can you try and be good for daddy, please, tateleh?", Ziva repeated softly, linking her arms behind Tali's back and holding the little girl a bit closer.

"Tov." Tali nodded, pleased with the grateful look on her mother's face.

Ziva tilted her head and rested her lips against Tali's forehead. "Thank you, neshomeleh."

* * *

Later on, while Ziva was typing away at her computer, she kept glancing at Tali who was sitting across from her at McGee's desk. The little girl was drawing away animatedly at a piece of paper. With each glance Ziva stole at her daughter, she noticed more and more of Tony in the little girl. Every dimple on her face, the way she concentrated with her mouth slightly gaping open, the light in her eyes, the way she was shuffling around in her seat - Tony through and through_. And still..._ Ziva hoped Tali really would let her father in, let him be trusted. But every time she allowed herself this most serene wish for father and daughter, Gibbs' voice deadpanned in the back of her mind, _'Just be careful what you wish for.'_

After filing everything on the Kent case and typing out their recent results and leads as well as deeming the car-search and name-run useless as they had practically no variables, with which to narrow down the search, Ziva was about to leave. Gibbs had shown up from time to time and taken to entertaining Tali, so that Ziva could finish her work. He had taken her on a trip to the vending machines, had embarked on a_ 'secret mission' _to Director Vance's office and had debated his choice of carpeting on the upper-floor guest room with the little girl. Ziva had smiled along, enjoying Gibbs' soft and mellow demeanour from the sidelines. She knew he didn't mind her witnessing it, but that didn't mean she had to comment on it every single time. After all, he did make a habit of this side of himself and Ziva, being the mother and all, could experience it first-hand time and time again.

She slipped a folder into Gibbs' memos and grabbed her things, scooping a sleeping Tali up into her arms. On her way to the elevator she almost ran into a geeky looking guy with wire-rimmed glasses and squatty build. He excused himself upon her irritated scowl and wriggled his way around her. Behind her retreating form he scanned the bullpen and realized that no one was there. Running after her, he caught up with Ziva in the elevator just in time before the doors closed.

"You are a member of Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs' team?", the man inquired breathlessly.

Ziva, already annoyed with the guy spitting out the whole of Gibbs' title, answered curtly, "Yes." Hoisting Tali higher in her arms, she started glaring at the tumbling numbers on the display above the elevator door.

"I am a member of Agent Wheeler's unit down in cyber crime and she sent me to get either Special Agent McGee or Ms. Sciuto to sign off on her system report", the man rattled off, adjusting his glasses along the bridge of his nose a few times too many for it _not_ to annoy Ziva more.

Irritated by this explanation that virtually was none, Ziva inquired tersely, "And you are telling me this, because..?"

A small, timid smile settled on the man's face. "Because Ms. Sciuto and Special Agent McGee are nowhere to be found. I waited for half an hour in Ms. Sciuto's forensic lab on the subfloor and now-"

Ziva quickly slid one hand from her grasp on Tali and held it up, shushing the man instantly. She turned away slightly and took a breath before she turned back to him. "That is because they have already gone home."

"But I need a signature. Agent Wheeler explicitly ordered me to get a signature today or she won't be able to order the required parts-", he broke off quickly when he noticed Ziva's death-glare and added meekly, "She said _any _signature would do if I cannot find-"

The door of the elevator opened up to reveal the lobby. Ziva's eyes darted from its freedom to the man's pleading look and back. Ziva scoffed, shifted Tali's weight entirely onto her left side and snatched a pen out of the man's chest pocket, signing her name on the dotted line on the piece of paper clasped to the clipboard in his hand.

"Thank you so much, ma'am."

Ziva's eyes flew open while her facial muscles clenched in silent disbelief. Now she was really thinking about bloody murdering that guy. Just when her hand with the pen rose menacingly as if operated by autopilot, Tali chose that moment to sigh in her sleep and snuggle deeper into the crook of Ziva's neck. A tight smile on her face, Ziva crossed the last inches with her hand more slowly and returned the pen to the man's pocket. Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she stepped off the elevator without a look back.

* * *

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

When Ziva stepped into the living room the sight that presented itself to her was definitely one to behold. Tony and David were asleep on the living room couch. Tony lay spread out, snoring softly, while David lay on top of him, his head resting on Tony's chest. Leaving her things by the door, Ziva crept over cautiously. The coffee table was littered with playing cards, fake money from whatever game they had stolen it from and a shaky drawing of what appeared - at a closer look - to be a sketch of Tony's small apartment in Spain. They had been to Spain together, all four of them, only once on a two-week holiday, and she had only once been to Tony's apartment. He had been adamant they stay at a hotel for their holiday, thus officially branding it a family holiday according to Tony's logic. That had been more than a year ago, Tali not even two and David barely five, it was no wonder the little boy wouldn't remember Tony's apartment.

Bending over the back of the couch and careful not to wake Tali in the process, Ziva nudged Tony awake. His eyes fluttered open and for a second they remained distant, as if he couldn't believe he was looking into Ziva's eyes. Standing over him, she nodded towards David perched against his side. "What time is it?", he asked sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

"Almost eight o'clock."

"He nodded off around seven...must've joined him at some point."

"Can you carry him up to his room?"

"Sure thing." Tony nodded and gently picked up his son, shushing the little boy's immediate, sleep-induced muttering.

Ziva joined him on their way upstairs with Tali, whispering from behind him, "Do not bother to put him into his pyjamas, he will wake." David was a light sleeper just like her and once awake, they would have had to spend the upcoming hours entertaining his newfound wakefulness. Tony nodded.

After putting down David in his own bed, kissing his son's forehead and lingering in the vision for a second, Tony went over to his daughter's room and leant up against the doorframe. He watched as Ziva skilfully changed Tali out of her clothes and put her into her PJs, mumbling gentle words of sleep-reassurance to the little girl that he knew were Hebrew. When David was still a baby, Tony had asked her once why she was always reverting to Hebrew soothings. She had responded by shrugging her shoulders absently, supposing she was so focused on the task of comforting their son that she unconsciously slipped back into her native tongue. Tony, however, knowing Ziva better than anyone could ever hope to know her, suspected quite accurately that at a moment so intimate between mother and child, Ziva was much rather taken back to a time when she herself was but an innocent child, comforted by motherly soothings in Hebrew.

"Layla tov", Ziva whispered finally, tucking the blanket in around their daughter. She lingered for a moment, just staring at Tali, whose breathing was moving the bedcloth rhythmically, her arm draped around Shim protectively. "She will not bite you, you know", she assured him softly without turning around.

Of course she had known he was standing right there. Sometimes he thought, maybe he was even counting on it. Maybe he even found comfort in knowing that nothing could put her abilities to a fault. "You sure some subconscious protective shield won't send me flying across the room?", he quipped, meandering closer and slinging his arms around her waist from behind. He couldn't believe his own relief when she put her head against his shoulder and caressed his hands that were resting on her stomach.

"I doubt it", she answered, smiling, "She is far too busy dreaming."

Ziva brushed back a fallen curl from her daughter's face and both parents watched Tali's eyes move rapidly beneath her lids. "Wonder what she's dreaming about."

"Probably fighting vending machines for her Uncle Gibbs' new carpet", Ziva retorted absently, shaking her head at Tony's momentarily bewildered expression.

He eventually crouched down beside Tali's bed and leaned over her to put a gentle kiss on her forehead, careful not to wake her. "Buena notte, principessa", he whispered and straightened back up, turning to give Ziva a playful smirk.

Ziva merely smiled back at him and left the room. Tony took a few more moments before following her out. He went to the bathroom and took a shower, pouting dejectedly when he found Ziva waiting for her turn outside instead of joining him. She knowingly patted his bare chest, smirking. He staid long enough to watch her undress, admiring every perfect curve on her body. It had been too long since he had seen her fully bare, he realized painfully. Walking into their bedroom, he headed straight for the bed. He didn't know why, but he was positively beat. Ziva joined him a few minutes later after her shower and after having kissed David goodnight. He watched her scurry around the room for a while, his arm propped up on the pillow and impatiently cradling his head in his hand. He loved that one second, that flicker of seduction, when she opened the clip that was holding back her hair and her curls finally rolled freely down her back, its dark brown shade highlighted by the faint shimmer of the bedside lamp. She could see the longing in his eyes, heck, she could _feel_ his longing when she crawled under the covers next to him.

He turned over to face her. She scanned his face over and over, willing herself to believe that she was actually lying next to her partner, the love of her life. She moved a hand to caress the soft stubble on his face, losing herself in the emerald of his eyes, when suddenly he captured her lips with his, pulling her closer into him. Their bodies followed their yearning lips, moving closer together until only the sheets were separating them. His hands had found their way to her hair, erratically brushing them back and away from her face for he could not bear anything covering the face of the woman he so wanted to stare at and caress endlessly. Her hands were linked behind his neck, holding him in place, keeping him right in front of her, leaving nothing, nothing between them. When his lips started kissing a trail down from her mouth to her jaw line and slowly, tenderly swayed down her neck, she threw her head back, a soft moan escaping from deep within her ceaseless desire.

In that same moment, however, something snapped inside of her and brought her back to her senses. She tilted her head forward and caught his lips again, pulling back a second later. "Not tonight", she breathed, her eyes now resuming their banter with his.

His emeralds wide with longing, he caressed the curve of her mouth with his fingers, smiling a knowing smile when she seized one of them with her lips and, refraining from more sexually charged actions, kissed it softly. "Okay", he conceded finally, understanding where she was coming from.

Their kids were sleeping in their bedrooms just across the hall and their desire was too grand for a quiet play-by-play. They would celebrate his homecoming soon enough. Ziva had already cared to mention possible weekend-plans to Abby and had thankfully received a knowing smirk and hearty nod from her best friend in return.

They leaned in for another kiss, both smiling against each other, before pulling away at the same time, their eyes meeting for a split second in a shared sigh. Lying down, Tony moved closer to the center of the bed, allowing Ziva to put her head on his shoulder, their hands entwining beneath the covers. She had already closed her eyes, softly caressing his hand with her thumb, when he pressed one last kiss against her forehead. Lying there, at last, they were absolutely positive that they were _there_, both of them, sharing the same bed at the same time. Both knew they were right there.

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_You may want to take a second of consideration and clicky-click that button down there: make me happy, make it a **review**! :)_


	18. PRES It's to be human, not perfect

**THANK YOU AGAIN** (and again and again and again...) for your reviews, thoughts and inquiries. I assume you don't actually want to get those spoilers/answers to your questions, but I do love to hear/read about your assumptions - makes writing the case-plot much more rewarding, believe me.

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**BACK IN THE PRESENT:** Ziva is still in a coma after her car accident and while Tony and the kids successfully (and with much help from their NCIS-extended family) got through the weekend, it's the start of a new week for them! Considering the case you are, of course, still missing the new intel from Thursday and Friday the week before, but I think I will be able to keep your confusion to the absolute minimum - if anything, it's building-anticipation-time, people! :)

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**Betherzz: **I actually didn't get - or try to emit, for that matter - the vibe from Tony as if he was highly off-set by Ziva's wink for caution, nor did the situation at the end convey her as being pissed, really. For one, I don't think they could have kept it 'in the bedroom', for what it's worth. That kind of sexually infused welcome-back calls for something more special and ecstatic - by the way, I remember Ziva admitting that she was a _'screamer' _at one point during the series, didn't she? :) - and I think of Tony as someone who would actually want to 'celebrate' it rather than 'get it over with' for its own sake. Then there's always the chance of one of the kids walking in on them and seeing as Tali can't even grasp the fact that Tony's there yet, let alone him sleeping in a bed with her mother, I don't think she would take well to them making love. And finally, I don't think love - especially love as enduring as theirs - is path-dependent on sex. The sweet fact that they can fall asleep cuddled up to each other should count for similar fulfillment in such a long-distance/time-gap-relationship as their current one.

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**Chap 18 It's to be human, not perfect**

_Monday, November 18__th__ 2018_

**West Clark Street, Apartment 7**

When Ziva had given her a spare key to their apartment, Abby had hoped she would never have to put it to use. It had been one of those emergency-only-moments where one hopes the emergency in question will never arise despite being honored or touched by the gesture itself. Right now, however, Abby was dealing with an emergency. It was the emergency of a Monday at _half past six in the morning_. A normal morning in the quaint understanding of the word…it was not. It was the Monday morning after an accident that was keeping Ziva obdurately away from her family and thus had Tony take care of two children he hardly knew anymore. Things had perked up, sure enough, but they were still far from the sunny side of things - it was much more of a silver-lining-through-rainy-clouds shaped allegory.

Now, when Abby Sciuto stepped into the apartment a surprise hit her straight on: It was completely and utterly silent. Discarding her things by the door, she crept upstairs and into the master bedroom. Sure enough, Tony's emerald eyes were staring back at her, horror-struck. In a flash he had jumped out of bed and put on a pair of sweatpants.

"Whaddaya doin' here?", he called out exasperatedly, his voice two notches higher than usual.

"Bathroom now, thank me later", Abby retorted with a smirk at his protruding manliness.

Like a deer caught in the headlight - or a schoolboy caught in the act by his schoolteacher, as would have been Tony's preferred analogy - his eyes were plastered to the spot she had just vacated until he could hear a faint _"Auntie Abby?"_ from the direction of David's room.

After a quick detour to the bathroom and a shower, Tony passed his son in the hallway. They stopped and looked at each other rather frantically for guidance, but both shrugged their shoulders at one another in unison. Tony's hair was still sticking out into all directions despite the hot shower, rendering his drowsy-looking son like the perfect Tony-replica that he was.

"What? You still here?", Abby's voice called over to them, her head popping up at the door to David's room where she had just finished making his bed. She went over to them and raised her eyebrows at the little boy.

"Bathroom?", he checked meekly, a yawn escaping his lips.

"Yep. You okay in there by yourself or do you need your dad to help you?", Abby asked softly.

David looked from his Auntie to his father and back. Tony looked back at him through half-closed lids and, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand, nodded somewhat affirmatively along. David thought about it for a second and then shook his head, skipping away from them and into the bathroom. Abby nodded exultantly and turned towards Tali's room.

"You want the honors?"

Tony, not realizing that Abby was talking to him now, noticed her expectant gaze only half a minute later. "Huh?"

"Tali. You daughter? Your _cranky_ daughter?", Abby half-laughed, "You want to wake her or should I?"

"You wanna?"

"Wha- Tony!", she whined and gently punched his upper arm, smirking inwardly at the pack of muscle she had touched down on.

"Ow! What?", he cried exasperatedly, caressing his arm.

"Oh, don't be baby, it wasn't that hard. But if you don't wake up soon, I'll get out the big guns."

"I am. I'm awake. I'm standing right _here_, Abs."

"Not really-"

She was about to say something more when David turned up behind his father, lingering in the doorway to the bathroom. He was wearing mismatching socks and a ghastly aghast combination of pants and a shirt but other than that he seemed good. Tony turned around as well, a chuckle leaving his lips upon the sight of his son.

Sighing and smiling at the same time, Abby turned back to Tony. "What did you do in the morning when Ziva was here?"

"Mess around and finish breakfast", he answered easily and ignored the pang of sorrow in the pit of his stomach.

"Good, go down and start on breakfast, I'll get the kids ready up here", she ordered.

Tony saluted and winked at David before he left Abby to fight David's choice of clothing and Tali's usual incompliant self. However, seeing as Abby was neither her mother nor her father, Tali eventually let go of her attitude and tried to make the morning task as easy as possible for her favorite Auntie. After marveling at Tali's not-so grumpy demeanor and straightening out David's attire, the three of them met up with Tony in the kitchen. Surprisingly enough considering his very Tali-like approach to a new morning, the breakfast table had already been set with pancakes awaiting their ravenous demise. Tony himself was leaning against the counter and nibbling away at a cup of freshly brewed coffee, his eyelids shifting north only a nano-inch per minute.

"I knew you had it in you", Abby commented gleefully, sitting down with Tali in her lap. Tony nodded and let out a grunt that could be interpreted as some kind of appreciation. Noticing Abby's expectant gaze, he eventually skipped over to the table and took his seat.

"Now, the master plan", Abby started, looking between Tali and David, "It's school for you two."

Tali astutely ignored Abby's comment which Abby unknowingly attributed to her persistent sleepiness. David, however, looked surprised for a second before nodding his head somewhat dejectedly and re-burying his head in trying to hash his pancakes. Tony, albeit still fighting his own adverseness to early and especially Abby-induced wake-up-calls, took the knife he had providently put on the table and helped out his son's continuously inane efforts in cutting up his breakfast.

When the six-year-old's appreciative eyes turned towards him, Tony winked. "How about I'll pick you up at lunch and we'll take a trip to NCIS? How's that sound?"

David's eyes immediately lightened up like a Christmas tree. "Really?"

"I'll have to call your schools later anyway. Don't see why they wouldn't understand. Special circumstances and all."

"Thanks, daddy." David threw his arms around Tony's neck.

Even though Abby knew that they were working a case and that Ziva wouldn't have easily agreed to this, seeing the joy glisten in Tony's and David's eyes and seeing as Ziva had recently done pretty much the same thing - even if under differing circumstances - she refrained from any kind of comment and smiled.

"How 'bout you, munchkin? You good with school today?", Abby turned to Tali, speaking softly to the little girl. The three-year-old quietly and slowly shook her head, not looking up and keeping her eyes on her pancakes.

"No like school, princess?", Tony inquired gently, leaning a little closer across the table.

Tali shook her head once more but this time she did look up, her chocolate brown eyes wide with hope. "Go see mommy", she uttered almost inaudibly.

With a pang of dread the weight of their situation was suddenly right back with them all. Tony couldn't help but look sadly at his little girl. He hadn't even planned their next visit to Ziva yet. The pout on Tali's face was more than either one of the adults could bear. Almost simultaneously they each took a deep breath.

"If you don't wanna go to school, princess, you don't have to-"

"But your daddy's gotta work. How about a day in Labby-Land?" Tali's eyes instantly regained some of their usual light and she nodded her head enthusiastically. Abby kissed the back of the little girl's head and Tony couldn't help but smile right along with his daughter.

Then, suddenly and with re-applied force, something dawned on him. "Wai- What? I'm working? I'm on leave! I thought I'd just-"

"Just what, Tony?", Abby retorted sternly, "Because of _you_ the team's a member short already and now you wouldn't even fill in when you're obviously needed? I know, it's nice and all up on Mount Blasé but there's always a time and a place to get your cojones back down into valet-valley, don't you think?"

Tony looked dumbfounded and not only due to Abby's choice of words. "Wha- It was totally Gibbs' choice not to pick a new team member."

"You know that's _so_ not true. Our big Chief would never have a calumet smoke with anyone who wasn't your exact clone. You're the Chief elect, the heir to the clan, the up and coming _Fearless Leader_. You gotta stand up for your people. Your team _needs_ you. Your _family_ needs you."

If it hadn't been for Abby giving this speech, the sheer pathos of her words would have cracked him up. But she was serious. Abby was serious. She meant business. And that fight…he could never win. So, instead of uttering another word, Tony gave a silent, compliant nod. David, not having understood half of what his Auntie Abby had said, had at least picked up on the sound of their voices and on Tony's sweet surrender. The little boy grinned sheepishly at his father.

Noticing his son's expression, Tony turned towards him. "That's your life lesson for the day."

* * *

On the other side of the city a man and a woman passed each other by in an alleyway. The woman's ash-blonde hair was slit back in a ponytail. The man's steel blue eyes briefly rested on the perfect curve of her slender build, the way her burgundy top was highlighting her cleavage just enough to send an erratic shiver down his spine.

"Today at half past eleven", he stated blankly, trying to keep his voice in check but it still sounded hoarse despite its deep basso, "I cannot make it any earlier, I have…_somewhere_…to be."

"The hospital?", she inquired knowingly, refraining from placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Got to have confirmation."

"You'll finish the job right there?"

He noticed the compassionate note in her somber voice, the tinge of fear that had always been there, ever since his father's death. Maybe even before that, maybe he hadn't noticed before that. "Change of plans", he assured her, his voice suddenly so much gentler, "Not quite yet."

She nodded curtly. For a moment they lingered in each other's presence, dragging the seconds, the heartbeats until their joint departure. Unable to control herself any longer, she quickly leaned forward and brushed a kiss against the stubble on his cheek, her fingers randomly grazing his right earlobe. Then she quickly turned and left. Looking after her, he closed his eyes, sliding his heavy lids over the blazing sapphire of his eyes. He tried to remember the feeling of her touch. He couldn't. It had been too hurried, too simple a caress. He opened his eyes, sighing, he left as well.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

At NCIS headquarters Tony stepped off the elevator and into the squadroom while Abby, carrying a delighted Tali, went farther down to the basement and her lab. Tali and he gave each other a short wave and a smile before the elevator doors closed on them and Tony sighed. _Back again._ He walked down the short passage, but at the entrance of the bullpen he stopped. With Ziva's backpack slung over his shoulder, the prospect of investigations, of McGee's tech'n'heck gibberish and of Gibbs' mood swings hovering above his head, he almost felt like having been pushed into a time machine disguised as the good ole elevator. Two years ago he had been standing right there, the same thoughts on his mind - but with less memories and different feelings.

McGee's things were there alright and Gibbs' desk looked like a storm had swept over it, so he was probably around somewhere as well. Suddenly, remembering Tali lamenting about missing her bracelet the other night, Tony took a deep breath and slammed his backpack into the corner behind Ziva's desk a little more violently than intended. Without a second thought he started rummaging through the file cabinets next to it.

The commotion he made in doing so could have woken the dead, but he still jumped when McGee's voice was carried over from the other side of the bullpen, "Tony, what are you doing?"

"She always kept the key to this under the little flag-like-thingy", Tony called back exasperatedly, straightening up and flaring his arms in the direction of what looked like a small strongbox in the right-hand drawer of Ziva's desk.

"You mean the little Israeli flag she kept in her file cabinets?", McGee asked, taking a stand in front of the desk and raising his eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, got that one right, McJeopardy", he confirmed absentmindedly, changing targets and trying to find a paper clip somewhere to start picking the lock of the strongbox instead.

"Well, doesn't anymore", McGee deadpanned, "She keeps the key jammed into the picture frame now."

Tony set his forehead in wrinkles. His eyes quickly scanned over the desk surface and fell onto the only personal adornment among writing utensils and computers. He picked it up slowly, cradling it in his hand. In the picture there was Ziva laughing one of those very rare, very honest and heartfelt laughs, sitting cross-legged on what most definitely looked like the floor of Gibbs' basement. Tali, who seemed to be about two, was sitting in her lap, beaming at whoever was standing behind the camera and holding out expectantly what he had recently come to know as Shim the Hippo. David was standing behind them, his arms slung around Ziva's neck and his head resting on one of her shoulders, sporting an easy grin Tony had yet to witness on his son's face.

He felt mesmerized by the scene in the picture, so much indeed that he hadn't even noticed McGee coming up behind him. "That was right around Tali's second birthday", Tony slightly turned towards him and McGee's smile gave him a pretty good idea of who might have taken that picture, "Gibbs had named his boat after her, but she didn't quite get why there was a boat with her name and no water nearby. Go figure, right?" McGee let an absent laugh slip from his lips. "Then she told him to call the boat like her hippo and make it small enough, then he'd get it out of his basement too."

Tony nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything. Though, he wasn't sure what he could have said anyway. The woman in that picture, the woman who seemed so happy, so perfectly content that she was among family and that she had both of her children so close to her, was now lying in a hospital bed, broken. No joke in the world, no quip to suppress his inner hurting would have been in any way appropriate now. That he hadn't been there, that this picture was yet another painful reminder of missing something that should have been more important, wasn't helping the sting McGee's words had added to his heartbeat.

Thus he placed his fingers on the sides of the frame and pulled out a small key. He took out the strongbox he could now easily unlock. He pulled out papers, certificates and, surprisingly enough, three _Defense Meritorious Service Medals_ until he found what he had initially been looking for: a Magen David bracelet.

"Isn't that supposed to be on Tali's wrist?"

"_Supposed_ to", Tony sighed, carefully tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket, "Apparently she broke the latch a few days ago. Ziva put it into the box so she could get it fixed but obviously…" He trailed off, inadvertently falling back onto the picture with his eyes.

McGee didn't say anything, he just followed his eyes and kept quiet. "Tali kept asking about it last night, so I promised I'd get it, and… Here I am", Tony shot out with fake enthusiasm. "Listen, you wanna tell me why there are three service medals in that box?"

"Because Vance pretty much gets SECNAV to award Ziva one whenever she's passed up for promotion, but she's very Gibbs about the whole thing-"

"It'll get even more Gibbs if you don't get to work soon", the man in question growled from the other side of the bullpen. His blue eyes bearing into Tony, he strolled over to them, coffee in hand.

Tony quickly dropped the strongbox back into Ziva's drawer with a petulant thud and shoved it shut with a quick wriggle of his hip. Putting on his best and most manly charming smile, he held Gibbs' stare. "Thought I'd step in, take one for the team, you know."

"Not your team anymore."

"No difference." And he was sure of it too, there really was no difference, nothing had changed around here. Gibbs was still in charge, Vance was still covering his ass and McGee and Ziva and Abby and probably Palmer were still devoted little working bees humming around King Gibbs of the Hive.

"Big difference." Gibbs knew they would find that out soon enough.

Tony lost his smile and stepped around the desk until he was only inches from Gibbs' face. "Look, you wanna get somebody from personnel, be my guest. But it would take days to read them in."

"You're barred too. No difference."

"Big difference", Tony asserted quickly, narrowing his eyes, "Come on, I'm the guy who can win a poker game _and_ do some serious investigating at the same time. I'm a multi-investigator."

Gibbs, remembering that particular memory with particular fondness, hid a smirk behind a sip of his coffee. Without another word, he turned to McGee, "How's the list coming?"

McGee, walking past them and towards his desk, answered quickly, "I went through it once, checking their background and trying to pick up some of the chatter in the undercurrent, but I didn't find anything. Boss, that's actually Ziva's-"

"I know. Do it again." Gibbs took a few steps towards the stairs before he stopped hard in his tracks, tilted his head to the side and added, "Get Tony to help. Catch him up to step."

"Will do…boss", Tony whispered after his retreating form.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Director's Office**

"Look who's barging", Vance quipped upon Gibbs' sudden entrance.

Shoving the door shut, Gibbs stepped up to Vance's desk, the first syllable hanging on his lips for a few moments before he eventually started to speak. "Need a temporary reinstatement here in D.C. for DiNozzo."

Vance raised his eyebrows noticeably and folded his hands in his lap as he leaned back in his leather chair. "A lotta things make that an easy Christmas wish. But not _that_ easy."

"Then don't."

"I didn't say that. And I didn't mean the paperwork either." Vance's voice ended on a higher note. Gibbs smiled crookedly. "DiNozzo's not the same guy that jumped the nest two years ago."

"I know", Gibbs' lips continued forming the perfect _'O'_ for another second, "He's two years older."

Vance easily disregarded Gibbs' comment. "He's used to being the one in charge. He's used to delegate. You up to the challenge of a second Gibbs?" Vance set his forehead in soft wrinkles.

"Quit looking in mirrors long ago."

"Just that he's not so much a rip-off but a variation." Vance smiled knowingly and Gibbs let a small smirk drip from his face before he turned around and left the office with the same missing diligence he had applied to entering it.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Tony was just returning from his customary trip to the vending machines. They hadn't really made any progress with those six names on the list, at least not more than McGee had already made, and that made Tony hungry. When he sat down, the _nutter-butter_ he had promised McGee ripped open and halfway to his mouth, his eyes fell on a note, squarely sticking to the desk. Neatly typed in common computer font, it read: '_Laudel Emmet Street, 11.30 am'_. Looking around, no one was there. He was completely alone in the bullpen. He slightly shuffled from right to left in his seat: nobody. He briefly pondered telling Gibbs, but his gut told him to check it out, that there was a reason for finding that note and that there was no reason for running to the NCIS chaperone and ask for permission.

Grabbing his jacket, he jumped up from his seat. On his way to the elevator he almost ran into McGee. "I'll go, pick up David. Cover for me, McUncle?"

McGee, surprised by Tony breezing past him, turned momentarily and just in time to catch the _nutter-butter_ bar from Tony. When McGee realized what had happened, the doors of the elevator had already closed on Tony. Shaking his head slightly, he went over to his desk and sat down, content enough with his candy bar of sweet choice. Though, when his computer screen gleamed back to life, his eyes fell on the clock on its display. It was only a little past eleven and David wouldn't be finished until half past twelve.

* * *

**Laudel Emmet Street****, N.W.**

Laudel Emmet Street turned out to be not really a street but a backdrop alley close City Central, conveniently made up of three dumpsters and a lot of backdoors. Tony had waited in the car until half past eleven, passing the time with chewing gum, examining his shades for any scratches and drumming his fingers impatiently along the steering wheel to a melody in his head. Then he spent another half-hour waiting for his mystery date wandering around the alley. He spit out his gum violently. He really had a hard time keeping himself from punching something. Leaning up against one of the dumpsters in serene exasperation, he suddenly noticed a familiar substance on its rim: blood, fresh blood. _This wasn't a coincidence, was it?_

He put his shades into the front pocket of his jacket and took a closer look: _definitely blood_. He went back to the car and was suddenly glad he had opted for an NCIS car. Granted, he just wanted to avoid driving Ziva's stick more often than necessary and he really started hating that Mini anyway for reminding him of Ziva. Be that as it may, he retrieved the forensic kit from its trunk and took a sample of the bloodstain. No, this was definitely no coincidence. But he'd find out what it was.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"Gavington Elementary burn down during your break, DiNozzo?", Gibbs deadpanned upon Tony's return to the squadroom, David hot on his heels. For a moment Tony didn't know if the comment itself or Gibbs knowing the name of his son's school irritated him more.

"Uncle Gibbs!", David cheered, sprinting across the bullpen.

Noticing the Styrofoam cup in Gibbs' hand, however, the little boy stopped hard in his tracks only inches from the older man. "Remembered not to test me again, huh?" David nodded and Gibbs ruffled his hair as the six-year-old gave him a sideways hug.

"Wasn't on a break, picked up the kid", Tony lied.

Gibbs gave him a suspicious look, but let it go. There were more important things to deal with right now. "Vance is busy, Cynthia's out of town and Jimmy just got a new case", Gibbs listed plainly, looking expectantly at his former and now temporary Senior Field Agent.

"Right…"

Gibbs' eyes narrowed at Tony's obliviousness. "David. He's gotta stay somewhere."

"Not here?"

"We're working a case", Gibbs stated determinedly and added with even more force upon Tony's questioning gaze, "Not here."

Tony, albeit a bit annoyed by Gibbs' attitude, walked over to them and put a hand on David's shoulder, nodding towards the elevator. David gave Gibbs a small wave before following Tony dutifully, his eyes plastered to his father's face all the while. Their elevator ride started out a silent one until David explained randomly and in faithful performance of his little-helper-duties, "Mommy doesn't like us to stay there when she's working." Tony nodded, an appreciative yet still confused smile on his face.

When the doors opened to the hallway leading to Abby's lab, David sprinted off instantly. Tony followed leisurely, entering Labby-Land to find the forensic queen engulfed in a bear hug by her nephew of choice. She smiled sweetly at Tony and Tony gave her a quick nod. Instinctually, his eyes started roaming around and landed on Tali sitting on a blanket in the corner of the room, surrounded by an army of stuffed animals. For Ziva not wanting the kids at NCIS, the little girl sure had amassed quite a few of her toys there, he thought. Abby followed his line of vision and waited. Suddenly, his eyebrows furrowed noticeably when he realized Tali was talking nonstop in a mix of Hebrew and English.

Turning back towards Abby, who was already gazing back at him expectantly, he inquired, "That normal?"

Abby opened her mouth to speak, but David beat her to it. "It's a story."

"A story? What story, honey?" Abby squatted down to the little boy's height.

"Sometimes, when we can't sleep, mommy tells a story to both me and Tali, one time in Hebrew and one time in English. It's Tali's favorite story ever", he elaborated, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"And what's the story about, bud?", Tony asked curiously. He really wanted to know too. If Ziva recounted the same story over and over again, it must have been important to her. Maybe it was the Eastern touch, the dap of _One Thousand and One Nights_ he so imagined in her that added a certain profundity to the little things she did, an added depth to the everyday. He knew her.

"It's about a man and his family who saves a woman from the desert."

Realization hit Tony like a slap in the face, even Abby's face was engraved with awe. She could see the thrill in Tony's eyes. Abby knew that Tony and Ziva talked about pretty much everything, that in order for their relationship to work they had promised each other complete honesty. But about Somalia, Ziva just didn't talk. She answered questions alright, she didn't withhold, she just never told the full story - not to Tony, not to anyone. Ducky probably knew the most about it because he had had the dubious duty of asking the questions. Tony himself had often asked the questions, the specific ones, the ones she would answer. She didn't tell the story, though, she didn't just recount what had happened like she would a story of an adventure in the park.

Sure thing, he had asked her. Before they had gotten together, before the fall-out with Eli, he had asked for the full story. She never caved. The memories were buried so deep, she never caved. Later on, when she had shed all her clothes, when they had lain cuddled beneath the covers, Tony had noticed so many scars, so many marks. He knew every story to every scar he had ever traced tenderly along her tanned body. But he didn't know the full truth, he never had had absolute certainty about her ordeal. From the moment Ziva had become his, the woman for his life, he had been reluctant to ask any more questions, scared of absolute certainty.

"And why's that? Why's the woman in the desert?", Tony continued, trying to keep his voice in check as he crouched down and closer to his son.

"She tried to save her sister but the bad men caught her", David explained easily, looking strangely at his father.

"And-"

Abby cut in quickly, turning towards David, "Sweetie, I cleared my desk so you can do your homework, okay?"

"'kay, thanks Auntie Abby." The little boy smiled and skipped off towards the other room.

Tony, without looking up at Abby and following his son with his eyes, checked artlessly, "You okay with the both of them down here?"

"We'll make it work, don't worry", she retorted absently, causing Tony to finally look up at her.

Abby was glaring at him as he straightened back up, dusted off his pants and looked on innocently. "What? Can't blame a man for trying."

"Oh yes, I can. And so would Ziva. This is not something you should ask your son, Tony", Abby argued sternly, her eyes missing their joyful glisten.

"Woah, Abby, easy…", Tony cried out, taken aback by her firm reproach, "I just-"

"No, you can't _just_ use your kids because you're afraid of what she's gonna say if you ask her directly. You don't get to take the easy way out of this, Tony-"

"I'm not-"

"Have you read it?", Abby interjected forcefully, her pigtails bouncing off her pulsating shoulders.

"Read what?"

"The medical report Ducky got you."

"How…?"

"I saw it lying on the counter this morning."

His voice caught in his throat and his eyes widened and exposed the vulnerable green of his eyes. "I don't…I can't-"

"I respect that you don't wanna read it and find out about every medical detail behind her back, but don't avoid it just because you think you wouldn't be able to bear it. You're in this together, there's no other way for you but to bear it. She _went_ through it. She would even _relive_ it for you, if you asked her and _you_-"

"Come on, Abs, you look nothing like Gabriel Byrne." Immediately, Tony's eyes clouded over again and a grin formed on his face.

For a moment she could only look at him. Then she sighed, shaking her head slightly at the tenacious child she was so obviously talking to. "What's that?" Her voice blank, she nodded towards the vial Tony had been nervously cradling in his hand all the while.

Glad for the distraction and heaving an inward sigh of relief, Tony held it out to her. "That? That's a blood sample I need you to run", dropping his voice to a whisper he added, "And you might wanna keep it on the down low, I don't really know what I expect of this…"

"Tony, you know I can't do that. I- The last time this whole covert confidential stuff blew right up into my face. Of course, the whole Director Sheppard thing blew up into all of our faces, yours more than anybody's but-", seeing the remorse flicker in his eyes, she stopped herself from ranting on, "I'll put it into chain of evidence, period."

"If it makes you feel any better… Thanks anyways", Tony uttered quickly, a small smile springing to his face anyway. Turning on his heels he was almost out the door when he turned back around, a pensive look on his face. "Why doesn't Ziva want the kids up in the bullpen?"

Abby's features softened visibly. "It's enough to know your family is catching bad guys for a living. They don't need to see who those bad guys are and what they can do, don't you think?"

* * *

A few hours and many an immersion in lab-work later, McGee stepped through the doors to Labby-Land. He crept in unnoticed by Abby, making her jump right out of her lab coat when he placed a gentle hand on the small of her back. "Tim!", she cried out, putting a hand over her thumping heart, "Don't you have enough work upstairs?"

"'fraid so, no. I thought my skills were put to better use down here entertaining the kids than upstairs. Gibbs and Tony are biting each other's heads off", he recounted morosely, his eyes scanning over the papers littering the desk.

"They are? Like…for _real_?"

"No, not for real", McGee's brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled in repulsion, "We may not be the friendliest work environment, but it's not Cannibal City up there."

"Well, they're Super-Tony and Captain Gibbs. You never know." Abby tilted her head to the side, "Slap fight?"

"No!", McGee retorted exasperatedly, his voice dropping noticeably, "They just can't seem to get on the same page on what to do next and resources are scarce, obviously. Tony wants to get all fed agencies together to track down the names on the list and Gibbs wants to keep looking into them ourselves. I already digitalized a time-stamped and multi-level model of the case for a little good old theorizing, but right now I'll be lucky they don't bite _my_ head off."

"Well, two positive poles repel each other. Physics 101, Timmy", Abby observed benevolently.

"What you working on?"

"Writing out reports", she commented dryly, her voice divulging slight irritation, "Because I can't use any of my babies right now." She pointed towards Agent Wheeler sitting at her desk in the other room, typing furiously into its keyboard. "She's been installing and re-booting the inner-office communication systems all morning, took a half-hour break at 10:24, continued all through lunch-break and been in there ever since."

"I'm actually finished, Ms. Sciuto", Agent Wheeler asserted suddenly, stepping up to them, and held out a clipboard and pen.

While Abby grabbed the pen and signed the form, McGee's eyes were plastered to the other agent. "That was fast", he commented ingenuously, earning himself a glare from Abby as his gaze drifted dangerously close to the other woman's burgundy rimmed décolleté, "I mean…the _parts_, you got the parts fast. Thought you said it would take longer to get them."

"Pulled a few strings." She smiled and winked at him.

A little agitated by the flirtatious blare in the air, Abby's voice sounded a little higher and brisker than usual. She knew McGee would have never done anything to endanger their relationship, he would have never cheated on her and flirting wasn't a crime per se. But Abby couldn't help it. She was a bit possessive and she had clear dibs on Timothy McGee. "Not to be rude or anything but I kinda need to get back to work?"

McGee gave her a strange look, but Abby was unyielding, raising her eyebrows expectantly. With a silent _'okay'_ on his lips he turned around as Abby called him back. "Wait. Can you take this sample down to evidence for me? Tony brought it back from some secret mission of his earlier but I really have no time for this right now. I still gotta catch up on all the little case-minions for the other teams. I'll look into this _after_ our case is wrapped."

McGee nodded and took the vial that had already been pasted up with a bar code and registered into the NCIS evidence log. "He didn't say where he got it from?"

"Nope. Only that he wanted me to test it and Major Mass-Spec's really swamped now as it is."

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks."

McGee smiled at his life partner and leaned over for a kiss, winking at her. With a triumphant smile on her face, Abby turned back around to dedicate herself wholly to her babies - her computers and her niece and nephew playing two feet away, that is. When McGee turned to leave, Agent Wheeler nodded towards Abby one last time and went after him. He had already boarded the elevator when she quickly slipped through the closing doors.

"I'll go with…if that's alright."

McGee gave her a benevolent smile. "Sure, that's…alright."

"If you want, I can take the vial down to the evidence locker. I'm headed down anyway, you know…with the subbasement and all", she offered good-naturedly, "I'm sure you're needed up with the MCRT anyway."

"Well, I-"

"It's no problem, really."

She smiled and pressed the button for the squadroom floor. As the elevator sprang to life and lifted them upward, McGee handed over the vial and the clipboard with the evidence log.

"Hey, I... I don't think we ever thanked you for getting Tali- I mean, Agent David's daughter as fast as you did...the day of the accident", McGee started, not only for the sake of conversation either, in his opinion.

"Oh, really, don't mention it. Glad to be of help."

She returned his honest smile just in time before the doors opened and he stepped out with a short wave. While Agent Wheeler went downwards, McGee walked over to the bullpen where Tony and Gibbs were glaring at each other, both their jaws clenched in an equal manner, Gibbs holding a cup of coffee and Tony scrunching up a piece of paper in his fist. Sighing inwardly, McGee took a stand right next to them but neither one took notice of him. He could only look on in astonishment as they stormed off in opposite directions, Tony heading for the far-end elevator and Gibbs heading for the one McGee had just taken up here. And with that, he was alone in the bullpen once more.

"Great, bosses", McGee deadpanned to no one in particular, falling back against his desk.

* * *

**Washington Navy Yard - Foregrounds**

After he had flung his half-full cup of coffee into a nearby trashcan on his way outside in an act of sheer infuriation, Gibbs was impatiently waiting for a new one at his favorite coffee booth on the grounds in the vicinity of the NCIS building. When he could finally cradle the heavenly black liquid in his hand, he nodded at the vendor to keep the change and strolled over to a bench close by. He took a seat next to an elderly man clad in trench coat and hat, reading today's paper.

"Back then he could be a pain. Had his moments alright. Loved the results. But now…", Gibbs growled, taking a sip of his coffee.

"The reunion of generations did not go over well, I see", Ducky sighed and put down the paper. It would be a longer conversation, he knew - _longer_ in the Gibbs-understanding of the word, that is. He would need all the concentration and attention he could muster.

"Reunion my ass. Didn't wanna be here from the start."

"But he was. He _is_."

"Doesn't change that he doesn't wanna be."

"Do you want him to be? Do you want him to _want_ to be?"

Gibbs tilted his head to the side, cradling the Styrofoam cup with both hands in his lap. "I want him to show me he learned something over there. That he didn't _waste_ two years on the other end of the world."

Ducky raised his eyebrows. "He did not waste anything. He was very successful at what he did and you know it too. I know you had Vance forward you reports on his conduct." Gibbs nodded his head, hiding his reaction in the coffee cup. "But he is not your devoted puppy anymore."

Gibbs' head whirled around to face Ducky instantly. He narrowed his eyes. "That's humiliating him."

"Still, _you_ take the lead and there is no way around it", Ducky started evenly, adding as Gibbs opened his mouth in protest, "-_except_, of course, for the times your Rule Number 38 applies, but that is not too often, Jethro. He _felt_ like your puppy. And that was enough. The phantom of an idea is still very much an idea."

Ducky turned to raise his eyebrows at the side of Gibbs' face. Gibbs' jaw remained immobile. "It's the flux of life, Jethro. I think, you might be confusing loyalty with constancy. It is the flaw of old age, I'm afraid, that we wish things to abide in the exact same state, a state we cherish very much indeed. Looking back on a whole lifetime we wish our states of pleasance to persist, we wish those around us to persist but it is their loyalty that may persist while they themselves continue on their journey through a life we have almost used up."

Silence hovered for a second. "He shouldn't have left."

"Maybe so, but his reasons were understandable... Ziva understands them. _You_-", Ducky emphazised the immanence with the flick of a finger, "-understand them. Who are the two of us to judge a man's choice in life? It's but now, in retrospect, that we realize our mistakes."

"Making peace, huh?" The flicker of a smile flashed across Gibbs' lips.

"With oneself, with the world, with the past."

"Ziva's line."

"Well, in the matters of mistakes and forgiveness Ziva's soul may be as old as our bodies are now", Ducky pressed a smile through his lips. Noticing how Gibbs' jaw dropped but the smallest quarter of an inch before he took another sip of his coffee, Ducky added with determined certainty, "She is going to come around, you know."

Gibbs shuffled a little in his seat. "It's wrong… What he wants to do."

"And you are right?", Ducky inquired knowingly and elicited a small smirk to tug at Gibbs' lips. "You know, sometimes the striking balance between acting rashly and sitting back is to go back and revise the facts."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - ****Morgue**

When the doors to the morgue shifted open, Tony tossed the crumbled-up piece of paper into the trashcan by the door. Palmer, clad in scrubs, wearing a face shield and holding a rip cutter, was bending over a particularly ghastly looking corpse, obviously a burn victim. Tony vaguely remembered hearing about the case. Palmer looked up, a faint smile appearing on his face when his eyes fell on Tony, and then turned his attention back to the task at hand. Tony scoffed, obviously immersed in some kind of inner banter, and kept pacing around the room.

"You know, I could have done with less drama", Tony started suddenly, taking a stand on the other side of the autopsy table, right opposite the ME.

"That right? And there I thought drama was right down your alley", Palmer retorted absently, not looking up.

"It's not the same. I mean…I _knew_ it wouldn't be the same. Though, I thought it would be exactly like old times but it can never be _exactly_ like old times. Get my drift?"

Palmer nodded, cracking the last of the rips and forcefully removing the twofold cage from the corpse's open chest. "Vaguely so, yes."

"He's just not right. What he wants to do…wants _us_ to do", Tony lingered on the last syllable for a second before he added with raised eyebrows and in a higher voice, "Not right."

"Chamberlain over Churchill, is it?", Palmer inquired earnestly, finally looking up to find Tony's look unaltered by the comment he evidently hadn't understood.

Unperturbed, Tony simply ignored his words and continued randomly, "Can you lose a gut?"

"Not in the _not_ metaphorical sense of the word, no. Although, I have seen a gut missing because the man's lower torso had been blown off in an explosion. Come to think of it, I have seen many a gut missing or _lost_ for that matter in my day-"

"Jimmy, you're not even forty yet."

"Yes. So?"

"You don't get to say _'in my day'_ before you hit magic fifty. It's such a Cox thing to hate, such a…_Ducky_ thing to say."

"It is, isn't it?" Palmer smiled eagerly, a soft_ 'ha' _trickling from his lips.

Tony huffed. "And there I thought me quoting Gibbs'_ 'What do you got?' _all the time was a sign to be on the lookout for Body Snatchers and mind-possessing life forms. Makes you wanna _'phone home'_, right?"

Palmer merely turned back to the corpse, starting to examine her innards while ticking off the log. "You crave the old dynamics?"

Tony, the grin fading from his lips, nodded his head somewhat.

"Still, back then he was the puppet master."

Tony's voice grew somber. "And I was tired of getting recast as Pinocchio. Still am."

"But you're here. Your reinstatement makes you Senior not Supervisory. You're part of a team, you're not the team itself."

Tony's eyes shot open and his forehead set in wrinkles. He countered quickly and decidedly, "Gibbs never was a team for itself. We always worked together."

Palmer looked up, adjusted his glasses and smiled knowingly. "Did you now?"

"You're good." Tony chuckled and wriggled his finger at the younger man.

"The good, the bad and the ugly. All in one, it seems", Palmer sighed.

"What? Why?", Tony inquired suddenly, switching quickly from his to Palmer's perspective but the ME just winked him off with a smile. "Well, what will you have me do?"

"I'm not the one to tell you what to do", Palmer asserted, raising his eyebrows.

Tony rolled his eyes and turned around, continuing on his pace around the room while Palmer continued tending to the corpse on hand. Suddenly, Tony perked back up, "Butting heads with all armed agencies was a stupid idea. Too blatant. I just didn't like Gibbs', 's all."

"Well, what would you have done two years ago?"

"Gone back to basics."

* * *

Because life writes the best stories when its irony is almost coincidental, the main elevator that was taking Tony upstairs rumbled to a halt at street level and revealed Gibbs beyond its opening doors. Seizing each other with a simultaneous glare, Gibbs entered without another word, turning his back to Tony who had taken a step backwards. They hadn't been on the up-move for half a minute when Gibbs jerked his head a little to the side, reached out and flicked the emergency button. The lights went out but Gibbs sapphire eyes were blazing with determination. Whirling around, he trained his glare squarely on an annoyed looking Tony.

"What? You wanna hit me now?", Tony asked sardonically.

"Don't play stupid."

"Then what?"

"Ziva's not here. It's time I don't care anymore."

"Care for what?"

"That it's none of my business to tear your head off."

"Now…_that_ sounds violent."

"Skip the smart-ass", Gibbs growled, taking a step towards his former Senior Field Agent, "You shouldn't have left."

Tony scoffed derisively, his shoulders squaring against his former boss and mentor. "You think I don't know that? You think my daughter doesn't show me every day that I shouldn't have broken her heart more often than any future boyfriend will ever live long enough to do? You think I get some masochistic kick out of realizing that Ziva was right not to want me back here? I'm-"

"Not everything is about _you_", Gibbs barked, "_Wanting_ you back here... You need a formal invitation to take responsibility for your family?"

"No, that's not-"

"Then what did you mean? 'Cause all I've been hearing lately is you whining and feeling sorry for yourself."

"Ziva's in a coma, in case you haven't noticed", Tony temper flared, he looked as if he wanted to punch something, someone.

"That's your excuse?"

"Excuse? What excuse?"

"You left. Wrong choice."

"I think we already established that-"

"So, big deal." Gibbs' eyes narrowed.

For a moment there was silence in the quaint cabin. Then, suddenly, Tony exclaimed exasperatedly, "What?"

"You gone didn't work. Admit it", Gibbs' voice was firm but lower than mere seconds before.

"I get it. I know I can't have both. I know it just doesn't work for us, okay?", Tony conceded evenly, his voice neither defensive nor angry.

"Good. Now you only gotta accept it."

Gibbs eyes were set directly on Tony's. It wasn't a pretty sight to behold, but, maybe, that was the face-off they had both needed for years. "Any advice on that one?", Tony asked tentatively. A small, crooked smile was tugging at his lips.

"You put it right."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

McGee was just filing away reports and old case files, pretty much catching up on the deskwork he had neglected in favor of their current bizarro-case, when he heard the elevator's ding. Gibbs, clutching his latest coffee-fix in one hand, strolled towards the bullpen with his muscles unclenched and his look oddly serene compared to the strangling blue that had glistened in his eyes almost all day. Only a few seconds later Tony followed the older agent and McGee could see something must have happened during that elevator ride, closed-up and uninterrupted. Tony seemed preoccupied but more relaxed than he had seen him in a long time. McGee couldn't help but hope that Gibbs might have accomplished what Abby and he had tried in ostensible vain.

When Tony arrived in the bullpen, he turned to look at Gibbs and they nodded at each other. Gibbs took a sip from his coffee and tilted his head slightly. "Review evidence."

"Look where we didn't look closely enough before", Tony added quickly.

McGee sighed inwardly. Holding up the remote, his lips set in a thin line, he called out to them, "I might just have the right thing for you then."

Finally, he'd get to put his case-model to good use.

* * *

Tali and David had been comparatively quiet in the backseat of the car. They had solemnly placed their orders with him at the Food Court but other than that they had hardly talked during the car ride. Tony could have attributed their uncharacteristic quietness to their eventful day, but he didn't. He didn't want to dwell on it, really. They walked down the hallway in silence until they came to room 713. Tony held open the door and they crept into the room. Inside, he lifted Tali onto her mother's hospital bed and arranged two chairs for David and himself right next to it. Then he handed each child their food of choice.

When they were settled, he started softly, "Now, let's tell mommy about our day."

"Cans she hear us?", Tali inquired disbelievingly, her eyes falling onto her mother's closed eyelids, on the machine pumping beside her, on the tube in her mouth.

"That's mommy. 'Course she can hear us", David retorted forcefully. Tali only stuck her tongue out at her big brother's big-brother-ness.

Tony smiled at David's determined confidence into their mother's super powers. He propped his hand up on Ziva's bed, only inches from Tali. "Well, princess, you know the feeling when you don't see someone but you just _know_ that someone is watching you?" Tali looked at him intently and nodded her head. "That's how mommy is feeling. She doesn't see us, but she knows we're here and she will know that we're talking to her."

A smile formed on his daughter's face, a smile that lightened up the little girl's face more than it had all day. A mischievous glint settled in her chocolate brown eyes. Tony couldn't help but look at Ziva right then and there, searching for the familiar brown, the color their daughter had inherited, in _her_ eyes. He didn't find it, of course. Her eyes were closed. But they moved, rapidly, beneath her eyelids. Her brain wasn't dead. She was still there, she was there with them.

Smiling wistfully, Tony mumbled, "She probably thinks she's dreaming about us."

* * *

_Short and simple: Please review! :)_


	19. To look life in the face and put it away

**THANK YOU ALL SO VERY MUCH **for your reviews, thoughts and inquiries! I am afraid, updates will become even more of a scarce commodity in the upcoming weeks as I'm positively swamped with work right now - but rest assured, this story will continue until its end...which is not exactly nigh, but we're closing in big time!

**In this chapter **we are back in the **PAST **and suspense is building up as we uncover the last bits and pieces of what happened prior to Ziva's accident on _Friday 15th_. So, by all means, keep up the good faith in this story AND **tell me what you think **(an incomparably valuable and motivational asset in sitting down late at night to (re-)write new chapters, I have to admit)!

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**Liat1989: **Regarding your question about whether Tony will read the medical report or not... We are all well aware that Tony likes to snoop around and know things about...well, everyone he cares about. In my opinion, that makes him not only a good investigator but also a loyal and devoted character. As we've seen in THIS story, he feels no inhibition about going through Ziva's stuff in her absence - but they share a life and kids, so it's not actually offensive in the "invading of privacy"-sense. However, I would like to think that in order for their relationship to have evolved beyond flirtatious friendship, both Tony and Ziva have learned to ask questions directly - which is, possibly, harder and more uncomfortable and thus needs that much more of emotional "build-up". I don't actually think I have answered your question with this...but it will make sense in the future, believe me :)

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**Chap 19 To look life in the face and put it away**

_Thursday, November 14th __2018_

**50 Massachusetts Avenue, N.E. - Union Station**

He was leaning sideways against a massive wall, today's paper lazily clasped in his hands. He was wearing a coat over his jacket, buttoned up almost to his neck. He had always hated the damp, cold weather of the northern areas. He had travelled the world extensively in his day and he had always hated the blazing haziness that coated the outside, the lack of sun and clarity in the skies. He hated winter, but he hated winter even more far away from home, from his home climate. He hadn't been home in eighteen years and doubted he would ever return. Trying to rid his mind of thoughts so inane and empty, he concentrated back on the paper, his steel blue eyes sweeping over the lines and sentences from right to left and back again. Suddenly, a slender woman with ash-blonde hair fell back against the wall, a cell phone pressed to her ear. He looked up.

She only caught his sadly questioning gaze in the corner of her eyes but she didn't need more than that. After all those years apart, she still only needed to translate the look in his mesmerizing eyes. "Steven's doing really well", she stated proudly, a smile on her face. Not that anybody was taking notice of anything or anybody around the time of rush-hour at Union Station anyway, but to on-lookers she appeared to be talking into her phone, smile unseen by the one on the other end. They couldn't know that there was no one.

The man saw her smile alright. He felt relieved. His own life he didn't value anymore, not since his father's death. He himself was only a means to an end and the end was revenge, ultimately. But Steven, his son, was his future and he would have never forgiven denying him that, ultimately. "That is good", he retorted in a serene whisper, holding the paper a little higher to conceal his moving lips a little.

"He wanted to try for soccer in his age-class, but I can't let him go to the try-out tomorrow evening", she continued gravely, her smile fading.

The blue-eyed man wanted to ask why, wanted to open his mouth but realized what the answer would be before he had even asked the question. They couldn't take any risks, especially one of them being recognized untimely. A part of him appreciated her care and consideration, but she had become increasingly on edge with the plan lately, especially in those moments that directly affected her life and, what was even more, Steven's life for that matter.

"It will be over soon", he assured her, his eyes glazing over with sympathy.

"And what happens then, my love? What happens _after_ you have gotten your revenge?"

"It will be over."

She shook her head, her eyes clouding over in sadness and resentment. "You won't be free. You'll never be free."

"I know", he laughed slightly, no remorse filling his voice, "But _you_ will be."

"Where will you go?" She fought hard not to turn towards him, not to search his eyes for a glance of love, for a token of hope, for a future she was certain they could not share - no matter how much she craved it, no matter what he had done.

He shook his head, his voice clearing. "I do not know. I have not yet thought about it."

She sighed, pressing her eyes tightly shut behind her black-rimmed glasses, and willed herself not to let those tears fall she felt stinging in them. He noticed the sound of her boot heel clicking impatiently against the concrete floor, saw her foot twitching with nerves. "I've arranged everything. Nothing should go wrong as it is", she declared, resigned to her current fate.

He smiled benevolently. "In plans like these there is always something that will go wrong."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Tony was sitting across from Vance at the latter's desk. He was leaning back against the soft leather of the chair, his legs crossed. He was wearing a dark suit, a dark blue waistcoat over a white shirt and his black blazer had been lazily flung over the chair next to him. He couldn't really decide what he was feeling on his first full day back in Washington. Ziva had, once again, spent the night in Tali's bed as the little girl still refused to sleep between her mother and father. Tali had, however, taken up a curious routine of following him with her big chocolate brown eyes, observing him, seizing him up and down. Tony didn't know if it should be creeping him out or not. The three-year-old was still directing requests and statements only at Ziva or David but seemed more interested in her father than anything or anybody else. When Tony's eyes had questioned Ziva on the matter, she had winked him off, an assuring nod enough for him to just let it be. So, after dropping David off at school, Tony had come to NCIS to check in with Vance and officially inform the Director of his leave and his current whereabouts.

"Europe executives are ever so pleased with your work over there", Vance informed him with a small smile, his elbow propped up on the armrest of his chair while his fingers did a little dance of curiosity.

"Then they really sanitize their comments for you", Tony quipped, a vague laugh dripping from his lips.

"_That_…I didn't say", Vance smirked faintly, "I thought it best to summarize and paraphrase."

"Ah…" Tony's eyes stayed a little absentminded, jumping around the various objects on the shelf behind Vance and the hazy skies outside the bay window. "Learned from the best."

"You certainly added a more…_personal _touch to it."

"Wouldn't wanna plagiarize anyone, now would I?"

Vance detected the pensive edge in Tony's otherwise and usually so flamboyant voice, a certain dent in the otherwise and usually so meticulous panache. In the years prior to Tony's work-dedicated departure, Vance hadn't been his biggest fan but he had come to value the Tony-way of tackling life and job. In Vance's opinion, anyone who could charm Ziva David, the Ziva David he had gotten to know in Haifa so many, many years ago, deserved a second look, a closer one at least.

"Is there something else you wanna tell me, Agent DiNozzo?", he inquired flatly.

"Maybe…I'm not as sure about going back there as I was two years ago." Tony didn't even bother to look anywhere but directly into the Director's eyes. He didn't see why he should hide, why he shouldn't disclose what he was feeling.

Vance was only mildly surprised. "You know, your position is open to you anytime." Tony nodded. Vance continued, however, knowingly, "But it's your old position, with people looking over your shoulder. With your commendations, the whole of NCIS' field departments is open to you."

"Maybe there's something more appealing right here."

"I respect that, really do", Vance retorted easily, his eyes narrowing, "I will support your choice, whichever that may be. You're a valuable asset, DiNozzo. And you know it."

"Well…there's something I'm _really _good at."

The cockiness behind Tony's statement felt dampered but he couldn't help it either. They nodded their goodbyes and Tony quickly grabbed his coat before he exited the office, shifting the door shut behind him ever so considerately. He seemed a little lost in thought today, even the smile he customarily flashed Cynthia appeared dimmed by his mind's preoccupation. His eyes unfocused, he almost ran into somebody stepping out of MTAC. When Tony looked up, he found Gibbs' sapphire orbs blazing back at him. They hadn't met since his return. Tony had already gone home with David when Gibbs had made a reappearance in the bullpen yesterday afternoon.

For a moment they stared at each other aimlessly, almost lost. Then, finally, Gibbs extended his hand. "Good to see you", he stated plainly, tilting his head slightly to the side.

Tony, looking at the older agent's hand momentarily, eventually shook it. "Yeah, you too, boss."

Gibbs' head twitched vaguely as their hands broke apart. "Not your boss anymore." Tony's mouth opened but Gibbs was faster, his eyebrows furrowing detectably, "David show you his pictures yet?"

Even though Tony was somewhat surprised Gibbs would know about David's abundance of welcome-home-presents, Tony nodded his head. "Yesterday…when Ziva and Tali stayed late."

Gibbs nodded his head. "You like them?"

A scoff escaped Tony's lips. "Sure I did."

"You tell him?"

"Yes", Tony answered curtly and forcefully.

"Good." With another nod Gibbs turned and left for the downstairs squadroom.

Before rational thought had made it successfully to Tony's temporal lobe, words came tumbling from his mouth and he called after Gibbs' retreating form, "I only did what I knew I had to do."

A crooked smile on his face, Gibbs stopped and turned back around. "Yeah, you _had_ to leave. I get that", he retorted smugly.

"Oh, don't give me that conceited crap", Tony blurted out, "You don't _get_ it. You never did."

"If you say so." Gibbs spun around and continued on his initial path of avoiding a fight with his former Senior Field Agent. He had no intention of fighting with Tony on the walkway to the Director's office like an old married couple. That he'd only do with Fornell, maybe even Vance if he was bugging him enough. Not Tony. Not Tony anymore.

* * *

Ziva was just returning from a search trip with McGee. Granted, they had processed Corporal Kent's apartment right after finding him MIA and they had found it lying in the same utter chaos as Rivers'. Gibbs, however, had decided it worth a second look in light of the new intel they had since acquired. Once again, his gut had been right. After she had discarded her backpack, her eyes fell on Gibbs jogging down the stairs and Tony staring after him from a freeze-frame position over by the top landing. She gathered, quite correctly, that the two of them had finally met. As always Tony had put off meeting Gibbs - and vice versa, the older man was no better when it came to sidestepping the emotionally uncomfortable - as long as possible. Their relationship had been a sore subject for two years now - maybe even longer considering Tony's motives for leaving. They had been moving on eggshells around each other which, regarding those two, meant for Gibbs to make no secret about his disagreement with Tony's choices and for Tony to have grown possessively defensive about his choices. That mix was hardly explosive but positively agitating for both and the family surrounding them. Ziva really didn't know what a proper catharsis for them could have been - and if they were even willing to have one.

When Gibbs stepped into the bullpen, Ziva went over to him immediately. "We searched the apartment again and we did not find anything physically important. Just like the first time around."

McGee, plugging his camera's memory chip into the side of the plasma screen, added, "_But _we found something much _more_ interesting."

Gibbs tilted his head and turned around, taking a stand in front of the plasma. McGee quickly reached for the remote as Ziva joined them. Their investigative slide show started off with a picture of the view from the door into Kent's small, four-room apartment. Ziva indicated several pictures. "Things have been disrupted systematically. Picture frames are lying on the shelves as if they were knocked over into the exact same direction."

McGee clicked through a series of pictures, one of them showing a battered frame holding a photo of Kent and Rivers with their unit. Then they had apparently searched the bedroom. "You see some of his clothes stuck between drawers as if someone worked their way up from the lowest to the topmost drawer", McGee explained, a hint of excitement in his voice.

The pictures onscreen now showed a small kitchen. "Things were thrown out of cabinets in one sweeping motion, scattering them along an acute angle from their emanating spot inside the cabinets", Ziva motioned at boxes, plates and bowls littering the kitchen surfaces and floor.

"And it's always the same direction, the same motion. Starting from the cabinet farthest from the door."

"I tried it", Ziva asserted decidedly, turning towards Gibbs, "Starting in the bathroom, which is the farthest away from the front door."

"And she could actually trace our perpetrator's steps tearing through Kent's apartment."

"Whoever did this wanted it done quickly and efficiently."

"Good", Gibbs stated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so as to turn slightly towards his agents, "Go back to Rivers' place and-"

"We already did", Ziva broke in, a half-smile playing on her lips.

McGee loaded the pictures from Rivers' apartment to the screen, clicking through them in a steady rhythm as Gibbs looked on. "Same thing, same pattern. Probably the same guy."

"Question is why", Gibbs mused.

"I do not believe there to be a satisfying answer, Gibbs", Ziva returned, her eyes narrowing pensively.

"No?"

"No. I think…destroying their apartments came with looking for anything that could lead us to their murderer. It was merely the side-effect of a precautionary action and we would do good not to read too much into it. If they were killed by a professional killer like we assume, the killer would know not to leave traces. But a disrupted apartment can hardly be called that", Ziva elaborated.

Gibbs and McGee stared at her. Gibbs was searching her eyes, her face, looking intently.

"Why do I get the impression you know exactly what you're talking about?", McGee inquired with a frown, looking at her in surprise.

"Because she does."

Ziva looked on evenly, not caring to answer but folding her hands in front of her. McGee, tilting his head to the side with trickling realization, assessed curiously, "You know, there really is a lot about this case you really know a lot about."

Gibbs, apparently having come to the same yet silent assertion, continued to stare at the former Mossad Officer. "Even more than usual."

Ziva was getting impatient with their continuous hinting and staring. "What?", she cried exasperatedly, "You think Mossad is involved in this?"

"Not Mossad. Not officially, no", Gibbs shook his head, narrowing his eyes, "But maybe another one of their nutcases. Haven't had those in a while." With that he left the bullpen, obviously in order to talk to Vance upstairs.

McGee and Ziva watched him go, both a little dumbfounded. "They always kinda seem to find their way to us, don't they?", McGee asked sardonically.

After his short spree with personnel management Tony entered the bullpen right around that moment and couldn't refrain from making a DiNozzo-certified comment. "If all bad-guy-smacking agencies in the world were on _Friends_, NCIS would be Monica's apartment."

McGee smacked his lips. "Tony."

"This might be the first sign of a masochistic symbiosis, bro... Like fungi and trees", Tony stressed the last word in a voice much higher than his usual tenor.

Ziva, ignoring the derisive undertone in Tony's comment, started on a whole different subject. "Sarah is going to pick up Tali", she stated evenly, a small smile on her face.

Realization and the true possibilities that sentence entailed sent a mischievous grin onto Tony's face. "Dinner for two it is."

Ziva couldn't help but chuckle at his boyish elation. "Lunch for two, but yes."

"Doesn't matter. Eat. Lay. Love. Something or other. All the same", he relayed cunningly, brushing a kiss against her cheek as he slung his arm around her waist and pulled her closer into his side.

Ziva, however, ignored the lascivious glint in Tony's eyes and turned to McGee. "You and Abby could join us if you like."

Tony, albeit craving some much needed one-on-one with the love of his life, still felt keen on catching up with McGee and Abby in person after all those months. He and Ziva would have their moment- _moments_, plural, if they had it his way. "Yeah, Probie San, let's go more _Breakfast Club_ on this one."

McGee looked up from filing off the pictures at his computer and smiled appreciatively. "Thanks guys, but Abby and I kinda have plans already. We'll catch some lunch downtown and then, you know…visit the orphanage again." He couldn't hide his beaming smile behind the screen.

Ziva smiled back, knowingly. She didn't want to pry and with a light, covert blow to his rips made sure Tony would follow her example. It seemed, rather obviously, Abby and McGee might have clicked with one of the children at the orphanage. Ziva so hoped they had. Without much further ado, Ziva grabbed her bag and Tony and they headed out. They had planned on an in-between lunch date at their favorite Italian restaurant not far from the Navy Yard since a little almost-gone-straight-south make-out-session in their bedroom earlier that morning: Ziva had woken Tony by rummaging through her drawers. And Tony knew how to seize perfect opportunities - an opportunity, however, cut direly short by David's yell for his mommy. Still, Tony knew they would have their intimate moment- _moments_, plural, if they had it his way…_all_ the way.

* * *

**Laudel Emmet Street, N.W.**

He had his black coat buttoned up to his chin, still freezing in the hazy cool of the day. His green eyes glistened through the settling steam emanating from manhole covers all around them. Dumpsters were lined up along the brick walls to their right and their left. He was shivering beneath his coat, his blonde-brownish hair looked disheveled.

"Everything set?", he inquired hoarsely, squinting his blazing green eyes almost shut against the stinging breeze.

"Everything is arranged", the other man stated hollowly, burying himself deep into his own coat. His long dark hair was flailing in the wind, his blue eyes merging with the vapor of the day.

"Is it going to work too?"

"There is no premature reason to believe otherwise."

"You can pre-estimate the right dosage? He will do as he is told?"

"_Everything_ is arranged", the blue-eyed man reiterated, this time more forcefully, "Trust me, I know what I am doing. But do you?"

His green eyes widening, his voice gained tenor. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are you completely sure they will not investigate this?"

"It's not even their jurisdiction."

"Aval…mishbacha", the blue-eyed man muttered knowingly under his breath. The green-eyed man scrunched up his forehead questioningly. "But it concerns family", he quickly clarified.

"Exactly."

* * *

**713 Trump Cartridge Avenue, S.E. - _Giacomo's Tavern_**

They were sitting in a small booth at the back of the restaurant across from each other at a table that seemed small enough. Their eyes were entangled above, their legs underneath. They spent their lunch talking about sweet nothingness, throwing shreds of banter across the pasta and tortellini, teasing each other, hinting at their joint sexual starvation and laying crumbs of love all over the conversation. They did, however, use their time alone to discuss the more serious topics of their life as well: Abby's and McGee's adoption Odyssey, the kids' schooling and money matters. Tony told Ziva about his meeting with Vance, deliberately leaving out the part about his reservation regarding his return to Spain. He wasn't even sure how he was really feeling about it either. He knew he would need to ask her opinion and her advice on the matter soon enough - but not yet.

"Nothing's changed", Tony declared matter-of-factly at one point, nodding his thanks to the waiter as the latter put dessert between the two of them and they each took a fork from his outstretched hand.

"Do you really think that?", Ziva inquired, narrowing her eyes and tilting her head slightly to the side.

"_You_ certainly haven't, my ninja", he smiled cunningly, forking a creamy bite of tiramisu and holding it expectantly to her lips.

"Now, are we talking about a specific aspect of me or on the whole?" She furrowed her brows, taking a bite of dessert with her own fork and disregarding Tony's for now.

Tony, holding his arm firmly in place in front of Ziva, answered easily, "You sure can't resist your very exclusive Tony-tation."

"I have successfully resisted it up until now." She smirked, licking off half of the coffee-powdered custard on his fork, her eyes resting in his seductively.

"A commanding part of me sure as _Body Heat's _the best you-can-sweat-but-not-sweat-it-out movie", he drew a quick breath, "-_can't _resist you."

"I know." She quickly caught the rest of the fork between her lips, slowly drawing back while her bare foot travelled north along Tony's leg to confirm his assertion.

"Oh-ho-ho", he chuckled nervously, unable to decide what he needed to retain from her sway first: the fork or sufficient blood supply in above-middle-range areas of his body. "Aren't we button-pushy today."

"Well, Tony, I would hate having to _change_-", she turned her head sideways and winked at him, pushing his fork away from her with her index finger and planting her foot back on the floor, "-_you_…if you made a mess now." Her voice dropped to a breathy whisper and she pursed her lips.

"Man-eater", he mock-accused hoarsely.

"Hypocrite", she retorted with raised eyebrows, smiling.

He laughed to himself, taking a bite of dessert now and smirking inwardly. After a pensive while, he started again. "Gibbs sure hasn't listened to the attitude self-adjustment DVDs I FedEx-ed overnight express."

Ziva briefly searched Tony's face for the actual meaning behind his sentence before reacting. "You think Gibbs never really understood why you left."

"And you did?"

"It is not about me, Tony."

She merely voiced the same opinion she had been adopting for two years. Her attitude wouldn't change either, it had simply suited Tony's intent more than Gibbs'. Still, he felt as uneasy about Ziva's statement as he felt about Gibbs' overt opinion right now. "I guess, he never _wanted_ to understand."

"Oh, he understands", Ziva declared with a nod while Tony could only stare skeptically, "It is his understanding he has a hard time understanding."

"You lost me at _'hard'_", Tony quipped, grinning his DiNozzo-grin.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at her life partner but didn't say anything. Sometimes she wondered how on earth she could have fallen for the one guy who seemed unable to take the world seriously even if it were only seconds from its evaporation. Well, no, she knew _exactly _why she had fallen for him: Just _because_ he wasn't taking the world as seriously as she had grown up to take it. She knew better than anyone that Tony remembered every word said to him, every emotion conveyed to him and every look bestowed on him. He remembered everything like an…_elephant_, was it? It amazed her really. She was the one with the photographic memory, but Tony could tell her the exact moment in their relationship that he had realized her to be in love with him - not love, but _in love_. He knew it even though he had been in the middle of quoting himself through _Tony's Personal Best of Captain Kirk_ on a case related to matters with the NASA. That's why Ziva knew her words had registered with him, that he would digest and ponder them and get back to her sometime soon, in-between life. In that, the man most people thought emotionally crippled had her at emotional and life-affirming attention every second of their life together.

"They don't particularly Atticus Finch me, do they?", Tony perked up suddenly, three quarters of tiramisu already missing from their joint plate.

Having seen _To Kill a Mockingbird _after a long-hauled argument with Tony over whether the movie had done one of her most cherished childhood books justice, Ziva's head jolted back slightly. "Do you get the impression from your son that he does not..._worship _you?"

"No, not really", Tony conceded quickly, his forehead staying crumbled though, "Tali, however…"

"Tali does not trust easily, Tony. Her trust you have to earn", Ziva relayed softly.

"And how do you suggest I do that, Obi-Zi-Wan Kenobi?"

"Tony, do not make light of this situation", Ziva said firmly.

She could live with his joking and quoting and averting any minute, she even loved him for it, but their children were a different matter. Even though she knew in her heart that he took it seriously despite his light exterior, it still rang an alarming bell with her.

"I'm not", Tony admitted sincerely, his eyes gaining color.

He knew how obsessively protective Ziva could be of their children, how seriously she took their parental responsibilities in light of the mistakes their parents had made with them. He knew that Ziva, out of all people in his life, accepted him beyond his distinctly shallow shell, knew him better than anyone had ever known him. But when it came to David and Tali she even needed reassurance about her faith in him.

"I know…"

"I'm taking this more seriously than anybody else."

"Then don't avoid her." She narrowed her eyes knowingly.

A soft laugh escaped his lips. "More like she's avoiding _me_."

"More like she is _testing_ you."

"Lordy!", Tony exclaimed, throwing his arms to the side, "Three years in and finally got full proof: She really _is_ your daughter."

"Oh, believe me, she is more _your _daughter than mine", Ziva laughed, "You will find that to be very true…very soon."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Vance got up from his chair, its leather upholstery sighing. He went over to the bar and poured himself a glass of water, dropping two ice cubes in it. Gibbs, having relayed his request a moment ago, stood rooted to the carpeted floor of Vance's office between the chairs and the door. He didn't count on staying too long anyway. He watched the Director take a sip before crossing the small distance between them.

"So, let me get this straight", Vance started, his voice calmly even, "You have two dead Marines who were probably killed by the same guy. You have no idea who that guy might be but he sent you little meat-clues to get from one dead Marine to the other. And on your manhunt you suddenly realize that Agent David's relating a little bit too much to the techniques used. Is that about right?"

Gibbs shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tilting his head a little to the side. "Yup."

"And based on _that_ you want me to contact - of _all_ foreign agencies - _Mossad_ and ask them if they're missing another one of their rogue agents in the area. That it?", Vance continued sardonically.

With unaltered and missing expression of any emotional sort, Gibbs nodded curtly. "Yup."

Vance eyebrows jolted upwards. "And _how_…do you expect I do that, Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs blinked. "By asking nicely?"

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

Ever since Ziva's return to work after her hubby-lunch, she and McGee had been spending their workday afternoon in comfortable silence, both typing out reports about their early morning apartment searches and both working the phone. After a particularly trying phone conversation McGee leaned back in his chair and stretched. His eyes fell on Ziva's engrossed expression, her eyes planted to her computer screen.

She didn't seem to notice his questioning stare…_not_. "Is there something bothering you, Tim?", Ziva inquired slowly without looking up, the hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

"Where's Tony?", he asked artlessly.

"He went to pick up David after our lunch. At home now, I guess."

"Alone?"

Finding the question rather odd, Ziva finally turned to face her partner across the bullpen with raised eyebrows. "No, Tim, not alone. I shall hope both Tali and David are there with him", she answered dryly.

"That's not- I mean… Alone with the kids?"

Even though Ziva narrowed her eyes at him forebodingly, McGee stood his eyes' ground and looked on decidedly. Eventually, Ziva's façade cracked and she returned almost bashfully, "No… I asked Sarah to stay her normal hours regardless…"

McGee merely nodded his head and returned to his task at hand. Now it was Ziva's turn to stare. Had it been so obvious that she was hesitant to leave Tony alone with the kids after what had happened the day before? As usual he and David had clicked, as if father and son were two supplementary parts of a jigsaw puzzle that were continuously ripped apart and put back together whenever Tony left for Spain or returned home. David was, of course, the older one of the two and the one who had inherited quite a bit of Ziva's more considerate nature - or her sister Tali's more considerate nature at that. Even though little Tali had promised to give her father a chance, the little girl was only three years old. How much consideration and empathy could be expected from a toddler? Ziva wasn't sure.

"How was it at the orphanage?", she blurted out suddenly, willing herself to focus her mind on other things.

Not instantly looking up, McGee's face broke out in a fairly enthusiastic grin. When he finally turned to look at her, his face was positively beaming. "We…uh… We met- Didn't Abby tell you about the newborn we saw the first time down there? When we were about to leave?"

Ziva nodded her head affirmatively. McGee nodded along for a moment before leaning forward in his chair, his voice turning somber, "As it turns out, Child Protective Services found the little girl lying in a crib next to her dead mother. The girl wasn't even sixteen yet and had planned on giving her baby up for adoption. Apparently, she had a change of heart after giving birth and fled the hospital. Metro launched a search and found her at a friend's apartment. The girl must have died soon afterwards of post-labor internal bleeding that could have been easily staunched if she'd stayed in the hospital…"

"Oh my God…" McGee could see the sheer horror in Ziva's eyes and was once again astonished that after all that she had seen, after all that she had gone through, her heart hadn't calloused over the years. If anything, Somalia had probably re-opened her heart in some way or another.

"They couldn't find any next of kin and _legally_...the baby was up for adoption anyway, so they took her to the orphanage. It's so strange…", he ended vaguely.

"What is?"

"On the one hand I feel so bad for that girl and…and- Her death…it's-", McGee stumbled over his own emotional chaos. Ziva could see him battling with himself, joy and dread fighting for the upper hand behind his eyes. "On the other hand… She- The little girl is so adorable, she's unbelievable. For having lived through what she's already lived through at only three days old… She-"

Suddenly his voice broke and a beaming smile remained. "What is her name?", Ziva asked, trying to make his tale more real for herself.

"Liora."

The baby's name rolled cautiously off his tongue, almost coy, as if he was afraid saying her name would make it all less real. Ziva couldn't help but imagine him whispering the baby's name over and over to himself so he would believe she was actually happening to them.

"This sounds like love at first sight", Ziva asserted happily, finding the timid joy emanating from her partner more than contagious.

"For Abby…definitely", the glisten in his eyes turned to sheer pride, "You should have seen her. She was absolutely…_amazing_. She was crying and a nurse came over to calm her down but she just wouldn't stop…and then- then Abby tried and- the baby in her arms…totally amazing. She settled down almost instantly. They fit."

Ziva knowingly muttered under her breath, "Both of you do."

* * *

Gibbs returned to the bullpen later in the afternoon. He sat down behind his desk, wordlessly urging his agents to relay any kind of progress. Ziva immediately seized the opportunity and called over, "I asked around among various contacts about foreign activity in the area, official and...not so official. There has hardly been anything of interest, but some of them have yet to…get back to me."

Gibbs nodded, clicking some kind of program or ad - he didn't really know what it was and frankly, didn't care either - shut on his computer, and looked towards McGee's desk. "I ran the numbers on Rivers' and Kent's phone records against calls made in the area of the cabin during the last six months but nothing checked out. _But_…we worked our way through calls made _generally_ in the area during that time period and one familiar name popped up."

McGee got up and put the appertaining service file onscreen. A familiar face turned up on the plasma next to Gibbs' desk. "Obelby", Gibbs growled, straightening up himself.

"Sergeant Major Brian Obelby", McGee elaborated more towards Ziva, who had never met Rivers' and Kent's CO, than to Gibbs, "Obelby placed several calls to different numbers within a 50 miles radius of the cabin."

"Good work, Tim. Bring him in."

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Interrogation Room II**

Ziva and McGee were staring at the two-face mirror on the surveillance side of the interrogation compartment. In the interrogation room Sergeant Major Obelby was sitting at the table, kneading his cap through his fingers and waiting. He had been waiting for almost half an hour already - all of it part of Gibbs' special tactic and treatment for Obelby's case of lying to the Chief Investigator.

"You think he's our mysterious ripper?", McGee asked, looking over at Ziva. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and she stared attentively at the man on the other side of the glass wall. She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything.

Suddenly, the door to the interrogation room flew open and in came Gibbs. He threw the door shut and briskly took his seat across from Obelby, his sapphire orbs searching the man's face. "You lied to me", Gibbs asserted slowly, his voice dangerously calm compared to his brusque exterior.

"I never- I didn't", Obelby countered decidedly, his eyes wide, "I answered your questions to the best of my knowledge."

"By the book."

"What else would have been there to say?"

"That you killed two Marines!", Gibbs yelled, banging his palms onto the desk surface.

The Sergeant Major flinched at Gibbs' outburst. He seemed nothing like the self-assured jock he had been over a week ago in the conference room. "I didn't…"

Gibbs tossed open the file in front of him. One after the other he took the forensic photographs out, each one showing a different body part. He slammed it on the desk for Obelby to see. With each picture Obelby's eyes grew wider, the look in his eyes grew more and more anxious. Ziva could see his hands clasping his cap so tight that his knuckled turned white. McGee watched a frown settle on her face.

"I didn't…", Obelby mumbled.

"You killed them and cut up Corporal Kent like a steak", Gibbs growled, taking the autopsy panoramas of Kent and Rivers from the file and placing them on top of the other ones.

Obelby gagged. "Oh my God…"

From their position behind Gibbs McGee and Ziva could see the relief of tension in his bearing, the relaxation of his shoulders. Things in the interrogation room grew quiet for a moment, Obelby staring at the pictures in front of him as if mesmerized by their sheer horror and Gibbs seizing him with his eyes. Then, suddenly and in one swift motion, Gibbs reached out and put the pictures back into the file, slowly closing it.

"He doesn't think Obelby's our man, does he?", McGee asked.

"Did you see how nervous he is?", Ziva indicated Obelby's hands, "His hands are twitching, his eyes are scanning the room. He tensed when Gibbs showed him the pictures. The killer we are looking for is ruthless, methodical and organized. This man may be guilty of something but not of cold-blooded murder."

Gibbs had obviously come to the same conclusion as Ziva. Their ripper was a professional and callous being. Gibbs' little show wouldn't have cracked their real killer. "Tell me", Gibbs said kindly, his voice even and caring.

"There's nothing-", the Sergeant Major's voice broke and he looked away.

"Tell me how well you really knew them."

"My God… I had an affair with him, okay?", he spat out, his face contorting in self-inflicted disgust.

"With who?"

"Andrew… Corporal _Kent_. I loved him, for crying out loud. I didn't kill him."

Ziva's eyebrows rose in minor surprise and McGee looked positively degraded. For a moment he had hoped they might have caught their killer. Only for a moment. "Where were you between eight and nine on November 3rd?", Gibbs inquired.

"I was- On my way home from my mother's house, I guess." McGee exited the other room immediately to go to the bullpen and to his computer.

Gibbs stared at the Sergeant Major for a moment longer. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Tell you? Isn't that obvious? If that came out, my career would be over…one way or another."

Gibbs nodded. "You see anything suspicious when you were at that cabin near Brunswick?" Obelby's eyes widened and he stared at Gibbs questioningly. "We have your phone records. They place you at the cabin on more than one occasion."

Obelby relaxed somewhat, bowing to his fate. He shook his head adamantly. "Andrew and I had a whole routine of communication...we were so careful not to leave a trace. I only ever went up there when he arranged for it and I...I haven't been for good two months. Our affair's the only reason Rivers and he even bought that thing. John knew. He knew…" The Sergeant Major hung his head.

* * *

**NCIS Headquarters - Squadroom**

When Gibbs and Ziva returned to the bullpen, after releasing Obelby, McGee got up from his desk and stepped up to them. He clicked the remote and pulled up a picture of Obelby behind the steering wheel of his car at a quarter to eight on November 3rd according to the time stamp in the picture's lower left corner.

"Boss, Obelby's alibi just checked out. He was caught by a speed camera an hour outside Washington Metro Area. Too far away", McGee explained quickly.

Gibbs nodded, his jaw slightly gaping open despite his clenched muscles.

Ziva sighed. "Definitely not our killer."

* * *

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Gibbs had eventually called it a day. The case had become more frustrating than any of them could have anticipated from the get-go, but the constant leads that led nowhere were more than his mood could take. Despite all that, however, Ziva couldn't say she minded. Yes, the case was always on her mind and it was bugging her that they couldn't seem to get one step ahead of their ripper/killer, but an early home-coming did mean more time with her kids - and more time with Tony for that matter. It was a quarter past five when she flung her backpack into the corner by the shelf in the foyer and walked into the living room.

"Mommy home!", Tali yelled, rushing over to her mother. Ziva scooped her little girl up into her arms.

"I've missed you, tateleh", Ziva whispered into her daughter's soft curls as the three-year-old clung to her neck, "You both." She looked over at David, who trotted over to them with a smile right away and hugged his mother around the middle.

Looking up from her children, Ziva's eyes roamed the living room slowly. Apparently, they had been playing dress-up and, seeing the crowns clasped to both children's heads, Ziva gathered Tali was the princess and David was the prince. Tony was staring at Ziva and the kids from across the room, Tali perched against her and David holding her close. He loved to see her all mom-ed up. Suddenly, Ziva's eyes settled on him. The lack of costume told her he was probably a commoner and so was Sarah. The latter was already searching the living room for her things so she would get to her sister's birthday party in time. When she was set to go, Ziva quickly gave her the rest of the week off and Sarah waved her goodbyes to leave the little family alone.

"Mommy, you da queen!", Tali proclaimed reverently when Ziva put her down on the ground and the little girl guided her over to their couch-castle.

David quickly agreed with his sister and scrambled over to the crate in the corner of the room in search for anything resembling another crown for _Queen Ziva of the Apartment_. Ziva chuckled and slumped down on the couch. Tony was sitting on the floor, leaning up against the couch by Ziva's feet. _Very befitting_, she thought mischievously.

"Why am I Tony Everyman and your mom's getting to be the Queen?", Tony whined, rolling his eyes up at Ziva from his position on the floor with a pout that could have been Tali's.

"Mommy's mommy", Tali declared matter-of-factly.

Ziva laughed. "You hear that?", she purred as she leaned down to kiss Tony on the lips.

"Easy, Your Highness. I'm totally beneath you", Tony mumbled against her lips.

"Have faith, my little hairy Everyman", she grinned and pulled back, batting her eyelashes sweetly, "I am sure a modern-day Cinderella story will work just as fine with the roles reversed."

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_Let's fill the time between updates with your **reviews**, shall we? :)_


	20. On Prospects Drear!

**THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER IN THE PAST - **it's the day of Ziva's accident...**AGAIN**...and this time we get everything that's happened on that fateful day **PRIOR TO **the first chapter; we go full circle, so to say. But do not fret, now that you know what happened in the past, the present will become all the more gripping :)

After this chapter the case-subplot is done evolving and we will start resolving all the loose threads that have been meticulously woven into the story up until now. That is why I want to induce some healthy **guessing **- and maybe it's just an author's obsessive endeavour to get over the scarce reviewing activity as of late - ALBEIT I AM DEARLY THANKFUL FOR THE ONES I GOT!

**I would love to hear your thoughts on these - may just help you anyway:**  
**1) **Blue-eyed man: Who's he? Where's he from? What's his background?  
**2) **The exposé of the story is officially over, all central characters are introduced. Who's in on the revenge-plot?

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**Chap 20 On Prospects Drear!**

_Friday, November 15th 2018_

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Tony awoke to soft, muffled rummaging. When he reluctantly shoved his eyelids upwards, he found Ziva, clad only in a pair of his sweatpants and a black bra, groping around in drawers and closets in search for her workday attire. He swiftly turned to the window. It was a little after six in the morning, the skies outside were still dimly dark and dull. A silent grunt dripped from his lips. Then he propped his elbow up on the bed and cupped his head in his palm, watching his life partner in silent amusement and lecherous joy. He noticed the clenching of her muscles, the movement of her body beneath her perfectly tanned, olive skin. Her long dark brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. Over the years the scars on her back had almost seamlessly merged with her skin tone. _Almost. _Tony still felt himself wince inwardly when she stretched to look through the racks above her head. The burns had healed, leaving but small, bulgy dots all over her back, but the drawn-out welts along her shoulder blades and lower back were lighter than her skin and became distinctly apparent. He quickly banned those thoughts from his mind.

"You know, reverse tactics could be so much easier and far more rewarding than that", Tony called over to her in a hushed whisper that couldn't conceal the voluptuous edge in his voice.

Ziva turned around, her eyes narrowed but a smile playing on her lips. With pants, a top and a jacket already in hand, she walked over to his side of the bed. He was sporting a trademark DiNozzo grin, following her every move with his jumpy emerald eyes. She bent down, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and started closing in on his face. Just when he had shut his eyes to prepare himself for sweet impact, she stopped.

"There are much more suitable ways to wake the kids in the morning, my little hairy butt", she teased softly, her eyes capturing his again.

The scowl on his face and the pout on his lips almost sent a chuckle down her throat.

"You may want to practice them on your son, yes?"

She was about to straighten back up but Tony placed a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her into a deep morning kiss, which she eventually and gratefully returned. She steadied herself against the bed with her free arm, brushing up against his tensing biceps on the way and setting off goosebumps all over his skin. She smiled against his lips before pulling back. Laughing softly, she got up and left for the bathroom to change and get herself ready. Tony lingered for a moment, sighing, then flung himself out of bed so as to take up his role in the morning ritual.

He wandered into David's room and opened the door wide so that the light from the hallway flooded in. "Rise and shine", Tony called out gently.

David's eyes fluttered open immediately, once again surprised by the deep timbre of the wake-up-call. Gazing towards the source of his early rising, he found his father grinning back at him. A smile appeared on the little boy's face and Tony, greatly enjoying that smile on his son's face, crossed the room and started frisking David's closet. Intrigued by the rather odd action, David hopped out of his bed and joined him. As she passed the six-year-old's room on her way down to the kitchen, Ziva couldn't hold back a chuckle when she heard her two favourite men heartily discussing the matter of today's attire. Apparently, they couldn't decide what to wear, why to wear it and whether it would be wise to choose matching father-son-outfits for the day.

Ziva heaved a soft sigh when she started on breakfast. Having Tony there always allowed her to embark on the morning run she would usually skip. The kids were simply both still too young to stay in the apartment by themselves. Even more so, with his help on hand, she was not required to pre-prepare breakfast for David before lunging into the customary fight with Tali's holistic need for sleep. For the past two days every routinely executed morning task was hugely facilitated by not having to coordinate both kids at the same time.

Halfway through the waffles Tony arrived downstairs with David in tow. Ziva turned around for a moment to observe the outcome of the afore-eavesdropped debate and found Tony wearing a pair of washed-out Levy's, a black jacket over his shirt and chucks - much opposing her son's denims, shirt and sweater. So, no matching outfits for the day, Ziva thought, having been quite intrigued by the idea. Maybe, one of these days, she would pull a Jordan Sullivan on them. Tony came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, kissing a trail from the back of her neck along her jaw line. Smirking, she turned her head to capture his lips before stopping the chopping.

"You haven't wished me a good morning yet", he hummed into her ear.

"No? Our morning could have fooled me." She narrowed her eyes at him challengingly.

"Oh Please...", he scoffed, "That was like gummi bears compared to the sug-_arrr _I intend to be gettin' so-huh-oon."

"Thank you so much", Ziva retorted ingenuously, patting his chest and eliciting a quizzical frown to appear on his forehead.

"Out of all the answers to that, you opt for a _'Thank you'_?"

"Well, I thought you just offered to go grocery shopping. So... _Thank you_." She smirked.

"My God, you're more sexually reverted than I thought."

Ziva, who had started walking off the scene, took a few steps back so she was standing right in front of him again. "For the sake of your children's innocence, do try to leave your more..._graphic_ references to our bedroom, yes?", she requested calmly, a surreptitious smile slowly forming on her lips.

"Graphic's good", he purred, a manic laugh slipping from his lips.

Ziva merely shook her head at him and turned to leave, dropping a kiss on her son's head on her way out. David had been watching them with a content smile on his face all the while. Even though he had a hard time understanding half of what his parents were saying half of the time, he still thought them funny. At least their voices sounded funny when they were talking to each other and their faces contorted in many a grimace all throughout. They were funny together - '_nuff said_.

"Same procedure as every day, James", Tony gurgled in a high-pitched voice, handing David the plates. The six-year-old took them with a laugh and rushed over to set the table while Tony took over breakfast duty from Ziva.

Ziva returned ten minutes later with a rather heavy-eyed Tali in her arms. She skilfully manoeuvred the little girl onto the chair next to her and started filling her cup and plate per her mumbled requests and with the three-year-old's head resting against her arm. Tony meanwhile took care of David. Ziva couldn't help but enjoy how Tony had found his own way of tickling David out of his quiet shell, of sending their little boy into fits of laughter or engross him in indistinctly evocative conversation. Tali's usual crankiness preoccupied much of her attention as the danger of her knocking down any of the dishes put in front of her was significantly higher at half past seven in the morning than it normally would be. Still, Ziva couldn't help but also notice how intently Tali kept her eyes on Tony and on what he was doing. No matter his every move, her chocolate brown eyes were transfixed. Ziva knew Tony must have realized and somehow he seemed a little more alert and sanguine than usual.

"Okay, who wants to hire me as their chauffeur for the day?", Tony asked suddenly, his emerald eyes jumping from one to the other, Ziva smiling at him and the kids looking on expectantly. When his gaze rested on David, he exclaimed, "How 'bout you, _Donald_?"

"We gonna drive the M'stang?", David inquired eagerly. For a reason that was well beyond Ziva, David enjoyed Tony's car just as much as Tony did - well, maybe a little less, Tony's excitement was by far hard to equal or exceed. It must have been the genes, really.

"Yup, and pick you up too, just not with the Stang", Tony returned, using the mispronounced nickname for his beloved car, "'Cause daddy's ride needs some serious pimping."

Ziva's eyes settled on him with narrowed eyes while she offered Tali a cup of juice. "You intend to translate this back to me, yes?", she inquired sardonically.

"I'll drop David off on the way to the garage. I gotta get him checked...the _car_, I mean. Neglected much", Tony elucidated, flashing her a knowing grin, "But I'll come by the Navy Yard and change cars with you after mine's finished. Avoid auto-adversary, y'know." He knew she didn't exactly care much about servicing either of their cars. Actually, the car-balance in their relationship was maintained by Tony's excessive care and Ziva's outright lack thereof.

"Your car is a _He_, yes?"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't we have that conversation before?"

"Your mildly sexist car-gendering is still baffling...every time."

"There's nothing baffling about it. There are _He_-cars and there are _She_-cars. Your Mini's a _She_-car, my Stang's a _He_-car, the-"

"Please, not again...", Ziva cut in, her tone almost pleading in dreaded retrospect, "It is enough that I will have to pick up Tali in your andro-mobile."

"You realize I'm offering to drive and pick up David in your gyn-car, right? And at the risk of _The Todd _resounding in my head for the rest of the day: I hate driving a stick", he quipped, grinning even more at the consolidated smile that slowly erupted on her face.

After breakfast they exchanged spare keys and tended to one child each, bidding their goodbyes in the parking garage as Tony set off with David as Zive would drop off Tali on her way to NCIS headquarters. They had, to the kids' eager delight, decided to eat out for lunch, so she had better gotten to NCIS on time if she intended to leave again in only a few hours time. Ziva kept checking the ongoing wake-up-process in her little girl through the rear-view mirror, how her eyes suddenly became attentive, how her movements jerked awake and how she could practically see thoughts running through her three-year-old mind.

"Daddy's fwunny", Tali assessed suddenly, a pensive note woven through her statement. Ziva could clearly see the little girl's eyebrows knitted together in consideration from the front seat.

"Yes, _that _he sure is." A small laugh left Ziva's lips as she turned the familiar corner into the street of Tali's preschool.

"He smile loads."

"He does?"

Tali nodded her head vigorously while Ziva kept looking for a parking space. "Ah-huh...you smile loads too when daddy's wound."

Ziva shook her head slightly at her daughter's assertion and got out of the car. Opening the door on Tali's side, she crouched down and tapped the little girl's nose. "Do I _not_ smile lots when he is _not_ around?", she inquired, her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yup...but you smile loads _more_", Tali stated matter-of-factly, nodding along as if to emphasize her point.

"If you say so."

Ziva smiled, taking Tali out of her booster seat and putting her on the ground so as to retrieve the little girl's backpack from the back seat. She knew she had a knack for taking things far too seriously sometimes. That came with growing up in a world where growing up was not a pondered option but a means to survive the next day. Her life in the US had loosened her up considerably. Her children and the idea of the kind of mother she wanted to be had certainly helped her adopt a more offhand, nonchalant outlook on life. Still, Tony had a way of arousing her playful side. That he had been able to do from the moment she had started working at NCIS.

"Mommy?"

Ziva was quickly jerked back to routine reality by Tali's voice. She quickly locked the car, took Tali's hand and they started walking towards the school building. "Yes, tateleh?"

"Why's daddy look at you all da time?"

Ziva was slightly taken aback by the continuing onslaught of observations. It seemed that Tali's incessant interest in Tony had taken a turn into the David-alley of characteristics. Then again, however, Ziva had always suspected that Tali's habit of _'observe and assess'_ - Gibbs' words, not hers - would, with added eloquence, lead to something very much akin to this at some point or another.

Even though Ziva had the minor suspicion that Tony was currently undressing her with his eyes every time he looked at her longer than three seconds, that wasn't something she would disclose to her three-year-old daughter. Ziva eventually opted for the very clichéd and parent-like alternative. "I don't know. What do you think?"

"He likes da look at you, mommy", Tali sighed dramatically.

She was bouncing along beside Ziva and her attention slowly drifted away from their current line of conversation and towards a bunch of her friends who were waving at her from the entrance. Ziva felt her tugging at her hand more and more as they approached. Finally letting go of Tali's hand, the little girl instantly dashed away from her.

"Tali", Ziva called out gently, a chuckle dripping from her lips.

The little girl turned around to find her mother's scrunched-up forehead, holding up her pink backpack questioningly. Giggling, Tali went back over and Ziva kneeled down to help her loop her little arms through the straps. With a quick _'Lay-daa mommy!' _Tali had quickly flung her arms around Ziva's neck to receive her kiss goodbye before skipping off to join her friends. Shaking her head disbelievingly at the almost schizophrenic display her daughter could put up, Ziva went back to her car. She really was Tony's daughter, no matter what he said - Tony's daughter through and through.

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**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

At NCIS Ziva was confronted with heaps and heaps of paperwork down in the bullpen while McGee and Gibbs were working on a far-flung idea up in MTAC that involved satellites they apparently had no clearance to use. Later in the morning Ziva was preparing to leave and briefing McGee on her progress while Gibbs retreated to Vance's office upon the Director's call. Arriving upstairs, Cynthia merely waved him through. Vance was already waiting for him with a beige folder in hand, his eyes widened expectantly. Gibbs closed the door behind him and took the folder from him without another word. It was sealed; covert intel. The seal broken, Gibbs found enclosed a small list of names glaring back at him, neatly typed on an austerely white sheet of paper.

"Mossad sent the list of names you requested", Vance filled in plainly, the disbelieving ring in his voice not going unnoticed by Gibbs, "Former officers they believe to be operating in the area."

"How'd you get it?"

"Someone still owed SECDEF a favour", Vance retorted breezily, "And SECDEF still owed _me_ a favour."

"Good for 'em."

"Your words."

Gibbs smirked. Taking another look at the list of merely six names, he observed, "Pretty short list for an agency like Mossad."

"Exactly. Actually looks like they hope we'll do the dirty work for them, digging 'em all up."

Gibbs scoffed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "So they can put 'em back in the ground."

A small smile flashed over Vance's face. "Show that list to Agent David. Maybe she'll recognize a name or two on it."

Gibbs nodded.

_He would never get around to showing Ziva that list._

* * *

Meanwhile, Ziva had found Tony's Mustang in the Navy Yard parking lot and had taken a seat behind the steering wheel. Arranging the seat, her eyes fell on a picture that was waiting for her to be found on the dashboard. It was a black-and-white picture of herself in Paris, taken on their joint assignment there years ago. It was a copy, obviously. The original rested atop Tony's desk in his office in Spain. That picture was his way of saying _'I love you'_. She smiled. Folding the picture in half, she put it into her pocket. She reached for her belt and put her badge and ID on the passenger seat next to her, her cell phone she placed in the centre stack. With a last look into the rear-view mirror she backed out of the parking space and took off towards Tali's preschool. A family lunch was exactly what she needed right now.

Stuck in a minor traffic jam due to road works a few minutes later, Ziva couldn't stop thinking about the picture in her pocket. Paris had been so long ago. Around the time of their Parisian assignment things had been looking up in her life for the first time since Somalia. She had been slowly getting a grip on a life far different than her old one. Paris had been a turning point, a minor one. After all, her life wasn't like those movies Tony loved so passionately. Life was, thankfully, simpler sometimes. Paris was a memorable stage in a gradual turn from a life she had once lived to the life she was living now, every day.

She chuckled. She actually hadn't liked Tony, not from the beginning she hadn't. It had taken her a lot of time, a lot of working together and glancing beyond to realize just how big a façade he was really putting on. _'All soft and goofy on the outside and a hundred percent rock on the inside'_, that's how Abby had put it once. Tony's demeanor, a demeanor so utterly different from everything she had ever known, had balanced her out somehow. As she had slowly started digging deeper into the scars he had buried within, it had become clearer to her that his was merely a way of dealing with it differently than she had, even though their starting points had been and would always be in two entirely and completely different worlds.

It was that side of him that had appealed to her and at the same moment repulsed her beyond any feelings that could have sparked. When Jeanne had happened, however, she had suddenly found a much different side of Tony and he had started uncovering a self that had been more vulnerable, more mature and truer to his true self than anything he had ever displayed before. That's when she had started feeling more for him. She still didn't know, up to this day, where those feelings had actually come from. Tony had not been her type, not in the actual sense of the word. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was the tinge of the unattainable that had aroused her hunting urge. Or maybe a remote part of her had hoped for him to rescue her out of a world she had, ultimately, never wanted to be a part of. After Jeanne, when Tony had been at his most vulnerable, however, for the first time in her life had Ziva retreated. She hadn't pursued, she had retreated. She had been beginning to trust him and she couldn't have afforded to trust him. They had been friends. Platonic. Nothing more.

Rifkin, however, had been part of her world, the world she had grown up to live and believe in and he had been somebody her father had endorsed. Had he played her? Had anything about their relationship been real? Had her father only set her up for her _Aliyah_? Had Rifkin been merely a means to an end in one of her father's intricate schemes, a plan that had eventually led to Saleem - the one he had always wanted, always wanted to eradicate? Had, maybe, Rifkin become a nuisance to her father he had wanted to get rid of? She didn't know. Eli would never tell her and she had stopped asking. At the end of the day, something inside of Ziva was still the seven-year-old girl that had waited up, waiting in her father's study to show off her medal. Rifkin she had trusted because Rifkin she had wanted to trust, had _needed _to trust. In a way Rifkin had been her second chance at trust into a world that Ari's betrayal had nearly shattered. Nearly. Almost. Her belief had not been beyond reprieve, Rifkin could have saved her own beliefs into her father's world from going under. She had wanted to trust him because she had _needed _to trust the world they had been sharing, the world of Mossad, the world of her father.

Everything she had been, everything she had ever known had revolved around that world and she had been, at that time, still an Officer of Mossad, loyal to its orders, its rules and its demands. NCIS had been but a stint, a hopeful, radiant stint - but still only a mission. When Tony had questioned her involvement with Rifkin, when Tony had questioned Rifkin, he had ultimately questioned her world, her self. It had been more than she had been able to bear, more than she had been able to allow herself to bear. She had been bound, bound to that world, bound to Mossad. When Tony had killed Rifkin, effectively, he had killed her world, her beliefs, her self. That same self she had later buried six-feet-under in the sands of the Somali desert.

After captivity, after realization, after salvation she had needed time to mend. And Tony had helped her mend by not trying too hard. She had always known that he would be there, that he had been waiting for her to be ready. They had been rebuilding their trust slowly, gradually, and they had formed bonds stronger than before. Eventually, let loose from her beliefs, she could really trust him, really love him. Eventually, she had allowed herself to trust him and get involved with him. From Paris onwards they had started balancing each other out - _again_.

They had not slept with each other in Paris but it had finally become clear to them both that they were more than friends, that they understood each other without saying a word, that they could enjoy each other's company on an emotional level without having to stop teasing each other about their respective quirks and vigorous personalities. Paris had been the moment when they had returned to a point in their relationship both had deemed lost after everything that had happened with Michael, with Somalia. They had returned to normalcy, to friendship and understanding, to comfort and care afterwards - and sparks didn't fly. That's the wrong allusion. They were like opposite ends of a magnet, constantly recharging each other's emotions and feelings and unable to keep distance as if persistently drawn to each other.

Just because they had known each other for years, hadn't meant they had known anything _about _each other. So, they had used their time together to get to know each other, _really_ get to know each other. Ziva had had to uncover each new layer of Tony with meticulous care, with painstaking constancy. The farther she came, the easier it got to let him be who he was. And Tony had had to come to terms with her past, with the things that had happened to her, with the things she had seen, the things she had done - things far beyond his imagination at times. The more he knew, the more he fell in love with the person she had become - sometimes because of it all, sometimes despite it all.

Before they had decided to move in together, they had told the team. Abby had known all along, McGee had known all along because Abby had, Ducky had wholeheartedly congratulated them, Vance had berated them about the consequences their relationship on their jobs - and Gibbs had stopped talking to them for a week. Vance had given Gibbs the choice of reassigning one of them to another team. At that time their first love-making had resulted in a pregnancy scare that had made them realize they would not have stayed together simply for the sake of a future child but for the sake of their love. Admitting their love to each other had given them enough substantiation to fight Gibbs' understandable aversion.

Gibbs' approval had officialised their commitment to each other. They did not need a wedding ceremony to confirm their love for each other. Their love reached beyond the margins of upbringing, of beliefs, of backgrounds - no piece of paper, no piece of metal or wedding picture could have proven what they were living every day. Instead, openly living their relationship in front of their colleagues, in front of their _family_, was the only blessing they had needed.

Ziva had become pregnant with David soon afterwards. After all, neither of them had opposed the idea of having a child together. Tony had proposed then, but they had both known, even before he had gotten down on one knee, that he had been proposing to the general concept of marriage, to the _'whole package'_-idea rather than Ziva. They remained unmarried but entirely committed.

_That was the true idea. For as long as fate allowed them to be, that is._

* * *

**On that same day at 01:0****3pm** Ziva, driving Tony's beloved Mustang, was hit head-on by a black sedan at 30mph over the speed limit. Paramedics arrived at the scene mere seven and a half minutes later.

Among the on-looking crowds that had gathered in the meantime an older man placed a call to a bar in Washington's Metro Area. Around the same time Agent Gibbs at NCIS headquarters received a cryptic call from a severely injured Ziva. Gibbs' gut told him at once what was going on. He alerted Director Vance, who in turn sent an agent to pick up David from Gavington Elementary School. Agent Claire Wheeler, who had been in the area and standby-connected to the office, called in to offer her services in picking up Tali. Half an hour later both children, along with their extended family, were gathered in their Auntie Abby's lab.

On his way to the scene of the accident Gibbs called Tony. On site Gibbs persuaded paramedics to take him along with the ambulance and assured a semi-conscious Ziva that Tony had been called and that the kids had been taken care of. While Ziva went into cardiac arrest, Tony was rushing to the hospital in her red-metallic Mini Cooper. He arrived at Georgetown University Hospital forty-three minutes later. At that time Ziva had already slipped into a coma.

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_Click the button. Click the button. Click the button. Review. And if there is nothing you wish to comment on: There are questions up there you can answer instead :)_


	21. Reaching Out for the Unlimited

_**IT'S ALL BUT PRESENT FROM NOW ON - **you might want to check out those chapters recently branded with "PRES" for a little continuity in the story. As for the case, there's an inclusive recap awaiting you farther down the scrolling track here. It's **peripety-time **in this chapter; the real fun's still up ahead, I promise. Thank you once again for your loyalty to this story, I hope I can entertain you in every possible, story-wise way with it: keep reading, keep **reviewing **and we'll all be a bunch of happy-happy cookies! :)_**

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****ChEmMiE: **Just to clean the slate: You're still _supposed _to be (a little) confused :) But yes, of course everything will be cleared up. As I said, the case is going to be resolved continually from now on and this story is pretty much planned-through, so there should be no loose ends left at the end of it :)

**NCIS-Addict-4427:** Loving the coincidence of it - the names, I mean :) It's funny that you point out the meaning of your name...I'm always a little ahead with the planning of future chapters and you might be able to repeat that special feeling in the future.

**mar-hhr4ever:** I'm glad you like the present-past-merger, even though there's (intentionally so) still a lot of confusion left. It's interesting that you don't like Gibbs here, though. But I've always thought of Gibbs as a distincly polarizing character - so, in the twisted logic of my mind I'm actually glad that you have your outright problems with him. He's not supposed to be easily relatable or understandable. If you want to take the time and specify your dislike, I would be happy to explain my reasoning for writing him this/that way. As for the (late) call you mentioned: Well, to his defense, Ziva had just been in a car accident and Tony hadn't been around that much for the past two years to stand on Gibbs' top-priority-call-list. But yes, underlying reservations playing into it maybe? Yes, definitely. You always have to remember that the last chapter was days before Gibbs chose to confront some of his reservation in the elevator-scene with Tony ;)

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**Chap 21 Reaching out for the Unlimited**

_Tuesday, November 19th 2018_

The day had started out as a comparatively normal one. _'Normal'_ referring to a kind he would not actually call _'normal'_, but it was the best Tony DiNozzo could do right now, the most his own life could do for him right now. Abby had come over again to help him in the morning. He knew she might have planned not to come a second time but before leaving NCIS yesterday, when he was collecting the kids from her lab, instead of arguing about her shelving his secret-sample he quietly asked her to come. He wasn't entirely confident that he could do it without her, and a lack of confidence he had seldom known. It was a completely foreign feeling to him and he struggled to deal with it. It was a genetic thing, really. Just like an adversity to help, an adversity to asking for help - but that he had discarded a while ago.

Tali was cranky enough for two once again, but Tony couldn't blame her: so was he. While his relationship with his daughter was slowly getting better, he still avoided pushing his chances and rather went along with David's and Abby's advice: let her move at her own pace. Before climbing into Abby's car, she had given him a chaste wave goodbye and a smile. He still couldn't hope for a kiss or a hug but she didn't shy away from him anymore. She unquestioningly took his hand when they crossed the street, she gave him short but clear answers to his questions and in-between his heart relished the odd statement directed unswervingly and unflinchingly at him. If there was something indistinctly positive that had come from Ziva's accident, it was the mending trust between him and his daughter.

After dropping David off at school, Tony still had enough time for a little stop. On his way to the hospital he stopped at a flower shop he knew sold the flowers he wanted: _gagea dayana_, a flower native to Israel. It was a simple, bright yellow flower with coy stamens and protruding, tapering petals forming the shape of six-pointed star. As such it was often mixed up with a similar flower, that which was known as the _Star-of-Bethlehem_. Ziva had once told him that gagea dayana was probably her favourite flower for exactly _that_ reason: Because it looked like a star of Bethlehem but wasn't quite it, though. They were extremely hard to get, but he thought a visit to his comatose life partner warranted a little extra.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Two and a half hours later Tony staggered through the doors of the elevator into the NCIS squadroom, looking completely shell-shocked. He meandered towards the bullpen, stopping short at its entrance when Gibbs built himself up in front of him. Tony merely seemed to register a physical presence blocking his path but everything surrounding him seemed lost to his distant eyes.

"Tony!" McGee called innately, jumping up from his chair and over to his boss and co-worker.

"You're two hours late", Gibbs growled. The clock on the far wall showed twenty minutes to ten in the morning.

"I couldn't reach you all morning", McGee continued aggravatedly.

"Cell phone off", Tony stammered quietly, his emerald eyes slowly gaining focus.

"What the hell's going on with you, DiNozzo?", Gibbs barked, slamming his newest cup of coffee down on Ziva's desk.

Tony looked from one man to the other, from Gibbs to McGee and back. His hold on the backpack loosened and it slipped down from his shoulder, over his arm and sank to the floor. He opened his mouth to speak several times but no sound escaped his dry throat. Gradually but surely, McGee's stomach started to churn in dread and Gibbs' face contorted with the hint of worry on his otherwise serene features. Suddenly, Tony's head jerked backwards as if some awakening spirit had eventually returned to him.

"Ziva's awake."

* * *

**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

Despite its usual haziness the air in the warehouse seemed comparatively thicker than usual. There were four people: three men and one woman. One man was standing unmoving on the side, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his blue eyes narrowed in consideration. The oldest of them, a half-smoked cigar clasped tersely between his chapped lips, was pacing a straight line of about ten feet from the back partition of the hall to the margins of the seasoned lamp's faint glimmer. That same glimmer highlighted the small portion of grease that held the third man's blonde-brownish hair in meticulous position while his green eyes slit through the murkiness of the hall. He seemed unfocused, his mind racing a mile a minute. The woman, however, was the most fidgety. She was continually tapping her fingertips together in a habit she had picked up during college and the long hours of after-class prep time for their case studies.

Finally unable to hold back her own exasperation any longer, the woman called out, "Everything's unravelling here!"

The green-eyed man was immediately by her side and roughly grabbed her face. Even though he was only a few inches taller than her, he shoved her face upwards by the chin and dragged it violently closer to him. "No, it's not", he sneered.

"It's not?", the older man cut in disbelievingly, stopping hard in his pacing tracks, "First she doesn't die and _now _she's back with the livin'. I thought the whole point was to off that fucking bitch?"

The blue-eyed man shook his head. "Now, now. Just because she is standing in our way, does not make her a woman of easy virtue."

"Don't you dare patronize me", the older man spit out, tossing the cigar from his mouth, "This is _your_ job. _Your_ part gone awry."

"I know", the blue-eyed man stated evenly, uncrossing his arms, "And I will deal with it."

The green-eyed man let go of the woman's face, disregarding the bruises his fingers had left along her jawline. She pressed a hand to her mouth so as to stifle the whimpers that threatened to escape her throat. The man turned towards the other two. "How?", he inquired.

"There is still a chance. In the end", the blue-eyed man assessed plainly.

His green eyes widening in realization, the shorter of the two cautioned, "That is, if everything else goes according to plan."

"Will it not?"

"God damnit!", the oldest of the group cried out menacingly, "Listen to yourselves! We spent years planning this fucking stunt and now it's all going to hell in a hand basket!" Neither man flinched at his outburst, only a vague moan could be heard resounding in the wilting structures from where the woman was standing and watching.

"Plans have flaws."

"Yeah, where's your flexibility, Sarge?", the green-eyed man quipped, a cunning smile on his face.

"Lying in the Iraqi desert with the rest of 'em", he growled, smacking his lips against the butt of his cigar.

"I think it best we lay low for some time, await their next moves."

"Why?", the woman asked quietly.

"Because there are two possible alternatives right now: Either they get on to us...or they don't. And if they do, we got to move fast."

"Can't we just make sure they don't?", the older one retorted.

"Not anymore."

"Never planned on it."

"So what?"

The blue-eyed man's face stayed as unperturbed as ever. His dark hair was merging seamlessly with his black jacket within the darkness. His low, guttural voice almost echoed from the midst of it. "Plans have flaws...and backups."

The green-eyed man smiled, nodding his head. "So we stick to the backup. And wait."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

When the doors of the elevator opened into the hallway leading to Abby's lab, Tony was met by the merciless blaring of music. Without any children's eardrums to take into consideration, Abby was probably pushing it to the limits, he gathered. He slowly crept forward, thinking he was being - at least compared to the music - reasonably quiet. But the moment the tip of his new Italian loafers protruded the threshold, Abby jolted upright at her desk. Surprised, he stopped hard in his tracks and looked around suspiciously, finding his own face gleaming back at him from the plasma screen across the room. Apparently, Abby had installed a camera - a camera focusing on the entrance to her lab. Tony felt strangely trapped.

With a jerk Abby whirled around and for a moment Tony feared that the forensic specialist wasn't actually Abby but a body snatching, A.I.-d clone of hers pointing a gun at him. But what he thought a gun was actually the stereo remote. Still unmoving, he watched her flick her finger and the music stopped. In its place the _20__th__ Century Fox_ fanfare started booming through the lab. Upon his persistently anxious looking face - and seeing as a digitally magnified version of himself was staring back at him, Tony was pretty sure about him looking anxious - a beaming smile sprang to Abby's face and she shuffled over to him, engulfing him in a bone-crushing embrace.

"Ziva's back, Ziva's back, Ziva's back!"

"You know?", Tony exclaimed, pulling back.

He looked somewhat degraded now. After McGee had almost jumped out of his skin and he had witnessed one of those rare and true Gibbs-smiles upstairs, he had actually been looking forward to breaking the news to Abby and watching her get all happy-go-lucky with joy.

"Yeah, I called the hospital-"

"Wai- You what?"

"I called the hospital, Tony", she reiterated, shaking her head at him, "Like I do every day."

"And they talk to you too?" Where was all that hospital policy, _we-only-talk-to-family_ crap he had witnessed an accumulation of the finest actors and actresses go completely berserk over in an even greater accumulation of movies?

"I can be very convincing... And I annoyed the policies out of Gladys, the woman at the admission counter. She's a diehard bowling fiend by the way. She was part of the _Wonder Team of '97_ when the nurses took over the reign from the nuns, but we've been unbeaten ever since-", Abby rambled but stopped abruptly upon Tony's falling face, "Ziva woke up! She's awake!"

"So I've heard", Tony laughed.

Abby turned around and started pacing around the room, her arms flaring along. "She's conscious and responsive and her blood works came back clear and her CAT scan and EEG were normal. Her sternum and rips are healing together perfectly and the latest post-op check-up showed nothing unusual, no leaking wounds, no late effects. She's good as new", she listed in one hasty breath, a grin lightening up her entire face.

Tony was slightly aghast at the information range of the one and only Abby Sciuto, seeing as she already seemed to know everything Dr. Bennett had called to inform him about just ten minutes ago. Then again, she _was_ Abby and he decided not to question that again. "She's Ziva", he declared plainly and with a smile.

"You were there?"

"Yeah...gave me a heart attack too", he laughed, stepping over to the desk and leaning against it, "When I came in, doctors and nurses were all over her."

"You talk to her?"

"No, wasn't allowed inside for too long. Just got a look at her once...and...and she was looking back at me-" His voice suddenly broke off. He had waited so long, sickeningly long to see her dark eyes again. "I mostly waited for her attending to give me the goods."

"So, you haven't talked to her yet?"

"No, Abby, I haven't", Tony had to chuckle at the forensic specialist's eagerness, "They carted her off to do more tests when I tried to go back in. Bennett's keeping me posted. But I'll go back in my lunch break...?"

"Good, good", a pensive edge erupted in her voice, her mind slowly drifting away from the lab, "That gives me more than enough time to prepare."

For a reason that stemmed from experience with Abby's idea of preparation, Tony blurted out uneasily, "Prepare?"

Abby instantly shook her head, clicking her tongue mock-disappointedly. "Tony, Tony, Tony... Don't you watch the sappy movies, the mushy tear-jerkers? First, the beau gets to have his tearful heart-to-heart with his convalescing damsel and _then_, the best friend goes all _caramba_ with the welcome-back-to-the-living bash."

"Right...", Tony started, approaching Abby understandingly and putting a hand on her arm, "But seeing as we _are_ talking about Ziva here, _our_ Ziva, the self-sufficient buzzard of damsels, you might wanna tone it down a notch or two-"

"But she's never-"

"Those welcome-parties were all for Tali or David. I'd never ever in the wildest of my dreams - dreams even wilder than baby Tony having been confused with the prince of wherever-little-island and actually being heir to a throne and a small fortune, living _The Prince Diaries_ DiNozzo style..._question_ your prerogatives as their Auntie. _But_... Ziva took the whole _'feeling like she's been hit by a truck'_ kinda literally, so go easy on the woman...please."

Even though Tony seemed completely sincere - in a Tony-way, of course - Abby couldn't help but smile even broader because of his little speech. It was probably the most he had said to anybody in the last four days. So, not only Ziva was back - Tony was too. Skipping the last theme of conversation altogether, Abby inquired, "When's she allowed home?"

Tony chuckled. "What? That you don't know?"

"I guess Gladys the counter lady was afraid I'd go all psycho on Ziva if I knew", Abby shrugged.

One of many possible comments was already hanging on the tip of Tony's tongue, but somehow he couldn't. He just couldn't. The moment was too perfect, too happy-perfect. It needed balance. Serene and truly happy, he answered, "They still wanna keep her overnight for observation but when that checks out, she's good to go home sometime tomorrow." The combined thought of _'Ziva'_, _'home'_ and _'tomorrow'_ sent a grin to his face he just couldn't seem to wipe off.

Abby's gaze simmered down to Tony's hand. She pointed at the clipboard. "That your makeshift greeting card there?"

"Wha-? No", Tony retorted, handing it over, "That's a chain of evidence log for the case. We, Gibbs and I...and Tim... We'd need you to go over all your evidence again. And best start with the unusual stuff... Unusual for any case and for this one in particular."

Abby's eyes skimmed over the various items on the log, nodding her head along to it. "Well, I found a quarter of a fingerprint on the lid of the jar the brain was in? I can start with that. It's been no good so far. I can't look for anyone with it, launch a primary search, you know. I can only rule somebody out or confirm their involvement. Thus far I tested the prints of every party involved in this but they're scarce and in-between and I got no matches yet."

"This is bigger than we think it is", Tony asserted, his eyes and demeanour returning to business while a vague smile on his face persisted nonetheless.

"Gibbs say that?"

"My gut say that", Tony smirked, "Try matching prints from recent incidents, recent Metro cases, NCIS cases, FBI cases. Heck, try Coast Guard too if you have to."

Abby, elevated not only by the array of new-found and possible leads but also by joys closer to home, saluted with a beaming grin adorning her face, "On it, boss!"

* * *

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

"I thought you had been a dream", she said quietly, her voice raspy from the endotracheal tube and from not having used it in days, "But when I saw the flowers I knew you really must have been here."

Tony could only smile at her assertion from where he was leaning against the doorframe. He had arrived at the hospital half an hour ago. When he had entered her room, it had been hard to believe how light and warm it had seemed. Its whiteness still sent chills down his spine, but it at least appeared lived-in. He had thought her to be sleeping with her head turned towards the far wall and had lingered in the door, just watching her. They had exchanged the cast on her left arm with a lighter, smaller one. Most of the patches and gauze was gone from her face, and so was the tube from her mouth. Her chest was moving in rhythmical breathing all on its own, if shallowly against the enduring pain due to her sternum and rib fractures. Her hair had been neatly combed.

"I should've known the accident wouldn't affect your mutant ninja skills", Tony quipped and crossed the small distance between them. He stopped next to her bed and waited for her head to turn while softly caressing her arm with his thumb.

"Well, according to my doctor my ninja skills were not the only thing luckily unaffected", Ziva sighed, but he could hear a small smile playing on her lips.

"How're you feeling?"

"Doped up on painkillers, yes?" She tried her face at a grin as she finally turned around to face him.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips rather noticeably when he found her dark brown eyes staring back at him once again. For a moment he was lost for words, just looking into her eyes, ambers in emeralds. She seemed tired, but her eyes were smiling. "And despite feeling hopey-dopey?"

"Quite well, really. I have a little trouble breathing but as I hear..._that_ is to be expected with a cracked sternum and broken ribs."

Now, he hadn't actually expected her to jump around and shoot daggers at moving targets from the one side of the room to the other, but she appeared weaker than he had hoped her to be. Dr. Bennett had informed him that Ziva hadn't gotten a lot of sleep since waking up and that she would probably be hardly responsive. She was responsive alright, but she wasn't herself yet.

"What is it?", she inquired, concern creeping onto her face as she reached up to touch his arm with her uninjured hand.

"I- Nothing, don't worry", he appeased with a smile, taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss against her knuckles, "I'm just happy that...that you're-"

"I know." She smiled meekly.

"Abby, McGee and Gibbs are sending their love...Ducky and Palmer some sort of Scottish folk dance which I resent to re-enact in fear for your eyes' innocence", he continued lightly and grabbed a chair next to her bed.

"I appreciate...that", she retorted with a small nod.

"They'll come by tomorrow, all of them. But I successfully talked Abby out of booking the USMA Glee Club for a sing-along."

Ziva merely nodded and for a split second her eyelids tilted shut.

"You okay?" Tony was immediately by her side again, bending over her with wrinkles of alarm on his forehead.

"Yes, just tired."

"I can leave, if you-"

"No, stay", she countered decidedly, smiling a real smile now.

"Okay", he assured her, taking his seat again and cradling her hand in both of his.

"The kids. How-"

"Great." His assertion merely earned him a frown on Ziva's face. She could always tell when he was lying, and lying better than right at that moment too. "They're doing okay. Missing you like crazy, though."

"I miss them too...very much."

Ziva arched her back despite the shooting pain in her chest for a little more air. Tony could feel his hands twitch to reach out and help her but he knew she would either ask or he would easily feel her true need for help if he was truly needed. She hated needing help and the next weeks were most likely going to fuel that aversion evermore. He didn't need to overstress from the get-go.

"David missed his try-out on Friday", Tony continued and her eyes shot open momentarily, "I almost forgot because of...well, you know. Gibbs reminded me. So, I gave them a call yesterday and he can try out next Friday. It'll be at a different school but if he qualifies they'll place him in Gavington's team."

Ziva rolled her eyes down at him and smiled appreciatively. "Thank you. I would have never forgiven myself if-"

"It's just a soccer team, Ziva-"

"It is important to him."

"Believe me, you're more important to him than soccer", Tony retorted easily, "That son of ours gave me a run for my money with the _Mama Ziva 101_."

Ziva chuckled. Sometimes David's dutiful devotion reminded her of a young Ari and she relished the differing circumstances and chances her son would have. "An old soul, Nettie was right after all", Ziva mused, "And Tali?"

Tony looked at her apprehensively for a moment and he could see that she was anxious about his answer. Ziva knew better than anyone - knowing her daughter better than anyone, after all - how much of a veritable bombshell her sudden absence must have been to the relationship between father and daughter. "We manage", Tony answered truthfully, a coy smile lightening up his face, "We're doing better by the day actually. We have a designated daddy-book now for her bedtime stories...and she's fully dubbed in English now, no need for subtitles anymore. She's getting real bossy too..."

Ziva could almost feel his glee, his almost boyish delight at re-establishing layers of trust with his three-year-old daughter and she felt immensely relieved. She felt as if a huge anticipation of dread had fallen from her sore shoulders and she fell back against her pillow. The adrenaline boost that Tony's visit had caused was slowly wearing off and with the assurance that her family was okay she could finally let go and surrender to much-needed sleep.

Tony got up from his chair and leant over her recuperating body, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead. "I love you", he whispered, brushing a hand through her dark brown hair.

"I love...you too", she mumbled faintly, her voice already laden with drowsiness.

He couldn't help but remember that four days ago he had not gotten an answer to that same sentence of truest emotion and he couldn't have felt happier. She was back. He gently placed her arm down at her side. "I'll be back with the kids in the evening", he assured her, adding on a higher note, "You better be ready then."

A vague smile tugged at the edges of her thin-lined mouth. Almost asleep she nodded her head. _They would be back._

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Later in the afternoon Tony and McGee were staring blankly at the plasma between their old desks, both munching on their respective take-out lunches in utter silence - apart from the odd smacking sound. The screen showed an anime-capture of their initial crime scene. Ever since the change of tactics late yesterday evening, they had reviewed every aspect of their case at least three more times since the first.

**As for the facts,** Sergeant John L. Rivers and Corporal Andrew Kent were murdered by a professional killer who had headed them off in front of their favoured bar between eight and nine o'clock in the evening on Sunday, November 4th. Both Marines were stabbed to death with a single, targeted hit. The Sergeant was found by NCIS' MCRT in the woods near Quantico with his head speared on a pike a few hours later, while the Corporal was brought to a cabin near Brunswick/Maryland. There, one eyeball, hand and ear were removed along with his brain by at least two accomplices before his corps was buried on the grounds.

**These body parts** were found at different locations all over the city: the hand in Sergeant Rivers' locker at a local detox facility, the eyeball in a jewellery casing during an official ceremony at UDC, the ear in an urn at a Columbian restaurant in Annapolis and the brain meticulously preserved in a jar at the cabin. Each new find uncovered a new lead for the subsequent one.

**Up until now** the victims' solitary life, the lack of motif and abnormalities had continuously hindered their ongoing investigations. Finding Corporal Kent - or rather: his corps - had proven more challenging than expected.

**They knew** a black Chevrolet Malibu Classic was somehow involved as the shovel that had been used to bury Corporal Kent had held fibres customary to, among others, this brand's trunk carpeting and Abby had identified matching tire tracks. And they suspected that the killer had been trained in the tradition of kidon or a cognate mindset.

"I still don't get why anybody would kill those guys", Tony stated eventually and probably for the fiftieth time that day.

McGee sighed exasperatedly. Looking over at his former and now temporarily reinstated co-worker, he could see Tony gnawing merrily away at his sandwich. "We've been over this", McGee pressed out through gritted teeth, "They were chosen arbitrarily, just not arbitrarily arbitrarily."

Tony's jaw stopped crunching and his eyes narrowed. "Did you just adverb an adverb?"

"Totally legit grammatical _move des lettres_", McGee retorted with a small smirk, tilting his head to the side.

"And what does it _mean_, Mc_Professeur_?"

McGee lowered his lunch-clutching hand. "It means that _our_ two dead Marines could really have been _any_ two Marines-"

"-as long as they fit the profile", Gibbs inserted plainly, strolling into the bullpen with a file he immediately slammed onto his desk.

"The prolific profile in question here being a low-key life, inconspicuous conduct, below-average sociability and probably two or three more parameters to be factored in."

"They weren't killed because they did something. Those boys were killed because they didn't do _anything_", Gibbs assessed blankly, stepping up to his agents.

"I know I should be naming at least five movies that fit that bill, but...", Tony's eyes momentarily lost focus and he started staring off in space, "...but I can't. Good Gandalf! I think I lost my powers. Now I'm condemned to lead the life of a common..._pirate_, if you know what I-"

Suddenly Tony felt a familiar yet distantly forgotten, stinging sensation on the back of his head. Yes indeed, he had been Gibbs-slapped. He hadn't been Gibbs-slapped for years. Just when he was about to turn around and say something, Gibbs' face challenging him for some kind of rebuttal, the clunky clatter of plateau shoes on bureaucratic carpeting could be heard. Abby was approaching and the three pairs of eyes turned simultaneously towards the sound. And really, Abby came to a halt at the entrance of the bullpen, her face contorted in a serene grimace of sincerity.

"Boys, I think you'll need to revise that", she asserted cryptically, pointing at McGee's animation that was still featured prominently on the big plasma screen.

"What do you got, Abs?"

"What do you got, Abs?"

Tony and Gibbs inquired in unison, both trying hard to ignore the not-so coincidence, Tony by gulping down the last bite of his sandwich rather soundly and Gibbs by momentarily shifting his weight to glare at Tony before turning back to Abby.

A little confused as to who she was supposed to direct her answer to at first, Abby's eyes eventually settled on Gibbs. "Bossman: motherlode. Big-time."

Gibbs eyebrows furrowed noticeably and he stepped over to his desk to retrieve a fresh cup of CafPow. Handing it to Abby, his eyes asked distinctly for a translation as well as an elaboration on the matter. Abby smiled appreciatively and proceeded to take her first sip but stopped herself upon Gibbs' expectantly raised eyebrows.

"Work first, sip later. Got it", she commented mock-seriously and stepped a little closer, her eyes wandering along between the three men, "So, after Tony told me to go back to the evidence we already had and to start off with the fingerprint on the jar lid, I did a micro-analysis of it, which I hadn't done before because...that's not what you do with a perfectly normal fingerprint. I mean, it's a fingerprint, it's- Well, be _that_...as it may, I found miniscule traces of blood."

She put her newfound CafPow down on McGee's old desk and, after giving it a swift longing gaze, went over to the plasma. She procured the appertaining files from her computer down in the lab via an intra-network connection accessible by a touch-screen function on the lower right corner of the screen. Immediately, McGee's animation was replaced by a compound graph showing particularly low but interestingly enough diminutive traces of haemoglobin. All three men stepped closer to the screen and followed her indication. While McGee and Tony took a sudden step back when Abby whirled around with a crafty expression on her face, Gibbs merely smiled.

"Then I thought, _maybe_ the guy who helped our ripper dissect Corporal Kent _cut_ or...or _punctured_ his finger and tore his gloves when he hacked into him, so I went back to Kent's clothes and ran down every little speck of..._whatever_ on his shirt. And there it was!", she ended triumphantly, her eyes knowingly wide and her right index finger raised.

"Was what?", Tony inquired.

"Blood", Abby breathed reverently.

"Again", McGee stated dryly.

"Yes, Timmy, _again_!", Abby countered incredulously, "Never _ever_ mock the forensic powers of the juice that circulates through our bodies, the fuel that livens our lives, the fluid of existence, the...the-"

"Don't get carried away now, Abs", Gibbs cut in plainly.

"Right. Well... The _blood_. It matched. The blood stain on Kent's clothes and the blood in the print were a match. Tony said to try recent cases but I went all out and included not only homicides but every ever so little case from robberies to car accidents in the Tri-state area during the last six months. So, I ran the DNA from the blood sample and then cross-checked with the fingerprint that was useless on its own..._despite_ its..._Picasso_-shaming twirls and whirls...and there it was: Motherlode."

Abby grinned victoriously and flicked her finger against the plasma screen, pulling up the driver's licence of a man named Chad Michaels. The picture showed a grim looking man in his late forties with fairly short, light brown hair and indiscernibly coloured eyes.

"Chad Michaels", Abby read, turning back around to witness the effect the following words would have on the three men, "The guy who presumably committed suicide by hitting the next-best oncoming car."

However, her words didn't take _any_ effect on the guys, all of them looking at her with strangely impatient expressions.

"Well, did _not_!", Abby elucidated, her voice growing more agitated, "That's the guy who _rammed _Ziva's car."

_Now_ her words were sinking in with full force. Gibbs' brows furrowed in a menacingly distinct manner while McGee's eyes widened and his jaw dropped noticeably. In contrast, Tony's jaw clenched and the muscles along his neck became visible, his emerald eyes ostensibly gaining colour.

"Why didn't you get a hit on him earlier?", Tony blurted out in one breath.

Abby ignored the angry note woven through his statement. "Because he's filed a suicide case. Because he hadn't been in the system yet when I first hit the evidence. Because he's apparently never attracted anyone's attention. Because, like I said before, the itsy-bitsy fingerprint wouldn't have narrowed it down to _only _him. Because-"

"He the killer?"

Abby shrugged her shoulders. The print and blood stain merely proved that Michaels had touched the jar with the brain and had been close enough to Corporal Kent to leave a small blood stain. It was all circumstantial, still. "Can't know that yet, but how big a coincidence can it be when the guy, whose fingerprint's on a jar lid and whose blood is on a corps involved in our Oscar-worthy ripper case, crashes the car of one of its lead investigators...of all people on that road last Friday?"

"None", Gibbs asserted evenly.

"Didn't think so", Abby continued, "And the car he's driving? The car that hit Ziva's? A Chevrolet Malibu Classic, four-door hatchback sedan, the same car we positively placed at the cabin where Kent was dissected and buried."

Gibbs immediately turned away from the screen and towards his agents. "McGee, background on Michaels. And put the new intel into your model...thing."

"On it, boss."

Then Gibbs' eyes set on Tony, but he looked hesitant to issue a direct order at Tony. Tony, however, anticipating what Gibbs was about to say, stated quickly, "Call Metro, get evidence on Ziva's accident to Abby and secure a court order to exhume Michaels' body."

Gibbs nodded his head, put on a small smile as he kissed Abby on the cheek and then left the bullpen to go upstairs. Abby and Tony followed his retreating figure for a moment before their eyes met in a smile - even if Tony's seemed a tad bit more terse than usual.

* * *

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

Tony had called Sarah early in the afternoon to tell her the news and given her the day off. He would leave early, pick up the kids and take them to Ziva. Gibbs certainly didn't object but his former and temporarily newfound boss wasn't what bothered Tony the most.

He had contemplated the question of how best to tell the kids about Ziva all day. McGee, the new warden down in the lobby and Abby (twice actually) had caught him staring off into space when he had actually been thinking about Tali and David. Even Vance had called him on it when the Director had picked a particularly awkward moment to express his congratulations. Tony knew that the kids would be ecstatic. That's what scared him actually. The Ziva he had visited a few hours earlier had been worn down by medications and pain, had been fragile and tired. The kids were used to the energetic ninja of a mother. Heck, _he_ was used to the energetic ninja. It had been so hard to see her so broken despite his own joy and relief. Then again, however, maybe he was projecting his own fears and insecurities onto their children. After all, he could still remember the horror of walking into his mother's hospital room mere days before her early demise and seeing her completely shattered by the effects of chemotherapy, her emaciated body. He would give the world to have her vivacious joie de vivre be his last memory of her, but alas, whenever he thought of his mother now he saw her gaunt and withered. But that wasn't even an option now. Ziva would come back, full force. _Still..._

When he had picked up Tali and Ms. Rachel had told him how understandably quiet and withdrawn the three-year-old had been all day, he'd say nothing. When Tali had boiled down her answers to monosyllabic mutterings, he'd say nothing. When David had gotten into the car and slammed his backpack onto the floorboard a little too dismissively for Tony's taste, he'd say nothing. When David had merely shrugged upon Tony's question as to his bad mood, he'd say nothing.

Not even now, walking down the familiar corridor towards Ziva's hospital room, did Tony say anything. Their faces looked dim, Tali was gripping his hand rather tightly and David seemed unusually preoccupied. Still, Tony couldn't bring himself to utter the words, he wouldn't have known how to. So, rather than preparing them, he merely opened the door to room 713 like he had done every day in the last three days and the kids wandered in, neither looking especially keen on watching their mother's emaciating body lie still and unmoving for hours on end. This time, however, it was different.

Ziva had been awake for good an hour, just staring at the ceiling and thinking. She was feeling better. Her wound healing had never been quite the same after the infections she had suffered in Somalia but it seemed she was right on recuperating track. When she had heard the door to her room open and not seen a white lab coat stroll in, she had shifted her weight carefully to the side. She could not fully turn but she could at least go as far as the searing pain would allow.

When Tali's eyes landed on Ziva's, Ziva's dark brown eyes staring back at her, the little girl's entire face lit up. "MOMMY!"

Ziva attempted to chuckle at the way Tali sprinted towards her bed, but the unfurling pain in her chest advised her against it. Thus a bright smile settled on her re-awakened face.

"You wake! You wake! You wake!", the three-year-old chanted, jumping up and down right next to her.

Ziva's eyebrows furrowed noticeably. She had expected them to know already. _Hadn't Tony told them?_ When she looked up and towards the door, she could clearly see the answer to her question: There, David stood rooted to the floor, staring at her completely awe-struck and speechless. Tony had obviously not told them and his slightly apologetic smile told her he knew exactly that he should have. Ziva vaguely lifted her uninjured arm towards her son, and eventually David budged, letting himself be guided over to her bed by Tony's hand on his shoulder.

"Mommy", he mumbled.

"Shalom, neshomeleh." Ziva smiled at him. She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. He just kept staring into her opened eyes.

"Why's your voice all gwumpy?", Tali inquired ingenuously, her eyes narrowing.

"Because your mommy hasn't used her voice in a long time, princess", Tony answered as he came up behind his daughter.

"'s her old voice go way?"

"No, don't worry, sweetie. Mommy will have her beautiful voice back in no time."

Tali nodded her head. "Up?", she requested chastely, staring hopefully up at her father.

Tony looked over at Ziva, his eyebrows raised questioningly, and found her smiling back at them. This most unperturbed exchange between daughter and father had just relieved all of her most pressing worries. She briefly nodded her head.

Tony easily lifted Tali up. Holding her midair, he bent forward and whispered into her ear, "Remember to be really careful with your mom, okay?"

Tali nodded solemnly before he placed her onto the edge of Ziva's bed. Ziva couldn't help but stare, her gaze jumping from David next to her, still clutching her hand tightly, to Tali in front of her. Ziva couldn't believe how much she had missed them. While Tony went to grab two chairs for himself and David, Tali looked on skeptically. Ziva waited for those wrinkles on her daughter's forehead to dissipate.

When they did, Tali spoke up quietly, "Mommy hurt?"

"Yes, a bit, tateleh."

Ziva smiled. When Tony had visited her, she had been barely awake and in pain. Now, the excitement about seeing her children again was somehow edging out all that. She just couldn't deny them a proper welcome-back. She couldn't deny herself that.

Tali reached out cautiously to touch the cast around Ziva's left arm that was resting on her side. The little girl observed Ziva's face closely, waiting for her mother to flinch or show any other sign of imminent pain. Ziva, however, kept smiling. When her hand finally rested fully on her mother's plastered wrist, she inquired, "Dat hurt?"

"No, tateleh, my hand does not hurt. But I cannot move it. See?" Ziva slightly lifted her arm and Tali tried bending her mother's wrist but couldn't.

"Face hurt?", the little girl continued immediately, pointing at the deeper cuts on Ziva's forehead and cheek where the stitches hadn't been removed yet.

"Not much, no."

When Tali started inching closer towards Ziva's face, however, Tony softly enfolded her small, outstretched hand in his. Upon her puzzled look, he explained, "You can touch mommy's arm 'cause the band-aid's really, _really _thick and she can't feel you touching it. But there're no band-aids on mommy's face, so we can't touch it, okay princess?"

"'kay." Tali nodded her head vigorously, determined not to hurt her mommy.

"What's that?", David asked suddenly and all eyes jumped towards the little boy.

He had been quietly observing their respective exchanges up until now, had compliantly taken a seat on the chair Tony had brought over but not once let go of Ziva's hand. She had taken to absently caressing the back of his hand with her thumb while her eyes had followed Tali's keen exploration of her condition. Ziva knew that he would need and take his time to process the sudden turn of events, no matter it having been a turn for the better, and that he would snap out of it when he was ready.

The six-year-old was pointing at the gauze compress that had been renewed around Ziva's chest in the morning and that was distinctly visible from where her hospital gown was exposing parts of her cleavage.

"Well, you know how your body is full of bones, yes?", Ziva started carefully, alternating her gaze between Tali and David.

David nodded. He remembered the skeleton in one of the books his mom and he would read sometimes.

"And these bones can break like the one in my arm. That is why I have to wear a cast on my arm", Ziva continued, raising the injury in question again to emphasize her point.

"A very thick and hard and heavy kinda band-aid", Tony added upon Tali's questioning look.

Ziva nodded her head affirmatively. Then she loosened her uninjured hand from David's grasp and placed it against the little boy's chest where the sternum was, "This is also one of your bones."

"And yours is broken too?", he inquired, the thought of breaking a bone in his chest driving an appalled look onto his otherwise serene face.

"Kind of, yes."

"But that's no cast there."

"No, it is not. Because my bone is not fully broken. That is why I only have to wear a very tight band-aid."

"And that's why we have to be really careful about hugging mommy for a while, okay?", Tony inserted, looking at the kids with raised eyebrows. They both nodded their heads, somberly yet understandingly.

"Can you come home soon then?", David inquired hopefully. The question had been nagging in the back of his mind all this time.

"I hope so, tateleh", Ziva answered quietly, smiling despite herself. She could see the longing in her little boy's eyes and couldn't help but feel it too. She wanted to go home to her children, her partner, her family. She had been granted so many second chances in her life already. She wanted to leave all this behind.

Suddenly, the six-year-old stood, stretched up and brushed a small kiss against Ziva's cheek. When he pulled back, he was smiling at her and it seemed, to Ziva at least, that he had finally understood what was happening: His mom had woken up. The wish he had been making every night for the last four days, for his mommy to wake up and come back to them, had come true. Ziva couldn't resist any longer and moved closer to the edge of the bed, pulling him carefully into her with her uninjured hand. She held him tightly against her shoulder, whispering soft words Tony couldn't understand and really, didn't _want_ to understand. It was their moment.

Tony had meanwhile put his hand gently on Tali's leg, the simplest reassuring gesture he could think of. Nevertheless, the little girl seemed to patiently wait her turn. For a moment, when she had stormed into the room, Tony had feared the energetic little girl too inconsiderate, even if only accidentally, for Ziva's injuries. But the three-year-old kept surprising him.

When mother and son finally broke apart, Tony changed chairs and pulled David into his lap, from where the little boy immediately grabbed a hold of Ziva's hand again. She gave him a sweet smile before she turned to look at her daughter. Tali was staring at her intently, almost nervously.

"Do you want to lie down beside me, neshomeleh?", Ziva inquired knowingly, interpreting the little girl's fleeting glances quite accurately.

Tali nodded her head slowly. Ziva beckoned her closer with the free-roaming fingers of her injured hand and Tali tentatively inched closer. Ziva carefully shifted in her position, allowing the little girl to put her head onto her shoulder. She cuddled up against her mother and started playing with the fingers of Ziva's hand.

"Missed ya, mommy", she whispered, sighing contently.

"I have missed you too…so very, very much", Ziva returned softly, her eyes catching Tony's in knowing relief.


	22. Mournings and Making Memories Part I

**Chap 22 Mournings and Making Memories**** - Part I**

_Wednesday, November 20__th__ 2018_

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

Tali and David had eventually fallen asleep; Tali next to Ziva on the bed and David in Tony's lap. When the head nurse had declared visiting hours over, Ziva hadn't been sleeping, though. She had been resting comfortably amidst her family, amidst everything and everyone she held dear. Knowing Tony would have had to weather the storm that was their children's stubbornness, they had woken both kids up for a proper goodbye and it had taken more than one promise from Tony and especially Ziva to appease their determined reluctance. Only after they had left had Ziva found herself to be, in fact, very tired indeed. She had only been awake for an hour or so when a soft knock at the door caused her to turn.

The first thing that greeted her was an abundance of flowers and Abby's unmistakable lower body half. Her best friend cautiously inched forward, leaves and blossoms vivaciously blocking her line of vision. Ziva had to smile at the display, knowing by now that the softest chuckle would send waves of searing pain through her chest.

"Who told them we would take all the flowers?", Abby called out to McGee, who was entering the room behind his life partner. He seemed to be quietly observing.

"You did", he answered calmly. Ziva could practically hear his furrowed brows echoing from beyond Abby and the flowers.

"And who told them to get flowers in the first place?"

"That would be you as well."

"Next time you stop me _before_ I say things I'll regret ten seconds later, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it", he countered with a smile, finally stepping around the forensic specialist and strolling up to Ziva's bed. Without further ado he leant down and planted a kiss on Ziva's smiling cheek. "Nurse Ratched out there said you were awake."

"She seems to be right", Ziva retorted, raising her hand to pat McGee's cheek.

"We've been waiting for two hours out there and that…_woman_…wouldn't let us in until you'd been awake for at least an hour. Apparently, your friends visiting doesn't qualify for much more than added stress", Abby griped lightly, lowering the bundles of flowers just enough to reveal a sneak peek of her face.

"Try not to take it personal-"

"Right, I mean, who in their right empathy would make little kids as adorable as Tali and David leave their mom after she's been in a coma for four days?"

"Tony called yesterday", McGee explained upon Ziva's questioning look, "Hence the _'Nurse Ratched'_." Realization hit Ziva with a soft _'Ah'_ and a nod.

"Doesn't seem like you have vases left to fill", Abby mused, looking over at the windowsill, nightstand and shelf next to Ziva's bed, each carrying a multicolored set of flowers, some more withered than others.

"Well, some of them look dead enough, don't they?", McGee supplied with a smirk, taking up a chair for himself on Ziva's right while Abby wandered over to her left, two pairs of eyes following her curiously.

Abby started slipping dead floral bundles out of their un-watery vase-graves and replaced them with the new and freshly congratulatory ones she had brought along. Humming softly to herself, she annotated her fluent movements, "So, 'cause Tony's the only one who knows your favorite flowers, I got a bunch not-your-favorites with me here."

Ziva turned a little to look at McGee but her co-worker merely shook his head in benevolence.

"I got yellow roses from Vance", Abby explained, arranging the bundle of about twenty flowers carefully within their newly flourished residence.

"My favorite _color_ it is", Ziva commented easily, her voice still a little raspy and labored.

Smiling more inside than in the open, Ziva remembered a young Leon Vance on one of his earliest assignments in Israel that required his attendance at one of Officer Eli David's coveted dinner gatherings in Haifa. She remembered that tall man crouching down in front of a little dark-haired girl with wide auburn eyes who was sitting on a high-backed chair in the parlor, trying hard to follow her father's orders and behave. She remembered that girl wearing a yellow dress. She remembered Vance asking amiably, if yellow was her favorite color. And she remembered answering him - with sass that had earned her two days in the pit thereafter - that yellow was her favorite color and a yellow dress was the only way to get her to wear one at all. Vance must have remembered too.

"White carnations from staff", Abby continued, flopping some fifteen flowers surrounded by a green variety of thicket into a smaller vase.

"Don't white carnations stand for innocence?", McGee quipped, recalling the _Mind-Your-Flowers_ workshop Abby had made him attend with her a few years back.

"Befitting", Ziva grinned, trying to sit up but failing until McGee got up and lent a hand. She smiled at him appreciatively before turning back to Abby.

Holding up a bouquet of pink lilacs, Abby commented dryly, "And Palmer's obviously never met you before."

While Abby shook her head and exiled awfully shrunken lilies, Ziva merely smiled, "Not knowing which flowers to buy, he simply went for the most unlikely ones. That is very Jimmy actually."

"True."

When Abby reached for the flowers resting atop the nightstand - Tony's flowers - however, Ziva reached out her uninjured hand to stop her. "These are not even a day old. You can leave them."

Abby smirked at her knowingly, and conjured up a new posy of starry _gagea dayana_ to replace the old ones with. "Tony also called to tell us to get you the favorites."

It wasn't even a surprising gesture, it was typically Tony, his lovingly attentive part, but Ziva still felt more than touched. She felt loved, cared for. Tony had always had a way of making her feel as if someone actually cared enough for her, did more than objectify her abilities, her qualities. He had taken her for who she was, even though he still didn't know everything about her. Ziva seriously doubted that he would ever uncover the full truth about her and the things she had done in a past she much rather forgot altogether. She would never refuse to answer his questions, she would never withhold parts of the truth but she would never complete the picture just because. Too deep were some of the scars. Yet, he could make her forget and live in the present with simple gestures, small gestures, loving gestures.

After Abby had disposed of all dead plants in close vicinity to Ziva's bed, she came up beside her best friend and looked at her, her forehead creased in deep wrinkles. "Now, listen", she started, both her hands raised, "Hugging. Where do we stand on that matter?"

"It is a rather delicate matter", Ziva stated with a small smile, trying to uphold a similar sense of sincerity.

"Bear hug?", Abby tried, her eyes wide with curiosity, "As in wrestling bodylock style, not the Winnie-the-Pooh wish-wash."

"Abby, I do not-"

"How about a guy-love originated fall-in-with-a-back-pat bromance-y hug?"

"I have no idea what-"

"_Ziva.05_ hug?"

Ziva couldn't decide if she was slightly more irritated or amused by Abby's spitfire listing of possible hug-alternatives. She was absolutely certain, however, that she could not actually follow. Narrowing her eyes, she cautiously asked, "What is…a _'Ziva.05 hug'_?"

"It's the kinda hugs you delivered when you first came to NCIS", Abby explained easily, a good-natured grin adorning her face, "You know, those stiff, avoid-too-much-bodily-contact, shocked, no hands, no arms and bumpy kinds."

"I never knew you actually analyzed that stuff", McGee mused, the surprise on his face surpassed by his gleefully raised eyebrows.

"Really?"

"No, not really."

"Didn't think so."

"Abby?", Ziva cut in.

"So…no hugs, huh?", the woman in question summarized their exchange, looking slightly degraded.

"Not yet. I am sorry."

Abby sighed mock-dramatically but still bent down and carefully engulfed Ziva's uninjured arm. Ziva tried hard to resist the chuckle that was tickling at her throat when Abby's ingenuous eyes rolled up at her from where the Goth's head was resting against her upper arm. "I really, really, really missed you."

"We all did", McGee inserted.

Drawing back from their quasi-embrace, Abby added on a somewhat heavier note, "It'd be really swell if you could stop giving us all a heart attack every two years, though. Even if my cardiologist said my heart's got it going like a New Orleans jazz combo. But even the grooviest heart can give way to-"

"I _am_ sorry, Abby", Ziva said softly, her smile persisting, "But for once it was not my fault."

"Just promise to stop getting yourself almost killed all the time?"

Ziva's face fell despite the laugh that had been woven through Abby's comment. She remembered the promise she had given David - that she would always be there - only a few days before an accident that could have killed her. It was a dangerous promise to make.

McGee, picking up on the uneasiness creeping into Ziva's demeanor, took a hold of Abby's hand. "I guess that was _Abbysh_ for _'We love you and glad to have you back'_."

Ziva, snapping out of her sudden reverie, smiled at him. "Thank you."

"And for _'you scared us half to death'_", Abby inserted, smiling meekly.

"I have gathered as much, yes", Ziva retorted, "I missed a lot, yes?" She decided to stop dwelling on her memories for a moment. Sometimes they seemed too heavy to fit her present life.

"And then some."

McGee's proud smile could mean only one thing. "How far along are you with the adoption?", Ziva asked with a knowing grin.

Ziva couldn't have been happier to see the elated look the pair shared before Abby reached into her pocket and retrieved a picture. Holding it out to Ziva from her position on McGee's lap, she supplied almost timidly, "That's Liora."

Taking the picture from Abby, Ziva found herself looking at a baby of about a week at the most. Her small eyes were tightly shut against the obvious bustle surrounding her, a vague glitter of light blonde hair hidden beneath a pink cap. "Liora is a Hebrew name, you know", Ziva said, capturing their undiluted attention, "It means _'my light'_."

If possible, Abby's smile grew even bigger. "Really?"

"Ah-huh", Ziva nodded, scanning the small bundle on the picture once more, "She is absolutely adorable. Will she be the future Miss McGee, yes?"

"I don't know about the standalone _McGee _but we definitely filed for adoption yesterday afternoon", Abby blurted out, unable to hold back her joy any longer. She had wanted Ziva to know before anyone else and McGee had respected that but they had both been positively bursting with anticipation. Abby was practically glowing and with McGee's arms protectively slung around her waist they looked just like the perfect couple that deserved to adopt little Liora.

"Really? Oh my God, that is wonderful! I am _so_ happy for you!" Ziva reached for Abby's hand and squeezed it tightly. She couldn't resist a heartfelt laugh, disregarding the unfurling pain in her chest. The news was too good not to.

As it turned out, Ziva's accident had made them realize, painfully so, that life was just too precious to wait any longer. Liora had stolen their heart the moment they had met the little girl. Apparently, the social worker in charge for Liora was prominently backing their application, so they could hope for a clean and quick adoption process. Reverently, Abby told story after story about the few hours they had spent with the baby girl and that they might get to take her out for a little while near the end of the week. Ziva just listened and enjoyed their four-day-recap. When things gradually approached the matter of Tony and the kids, however, McGee realized he'd better leave the two women alone for a bit.

"Abby, my legs have gone numb half an hour ago", he perked up while Abby was in the middle of recounting the events right after the accident.

"But you're my human pillow", she whined with a smirk.

"Well, luxury's fugacious", he quipped, physically urging her to get up, "I'll go stretch my legs and raid the vending machine for a _nutter butter_. Anything for you, ladies?" He was already turning to leave and Abby was re-claiming their chair for herself. They both declined his offer by shaking their heads.

The moment he had left the room, Ziva turned to Abby with concerned curiosity written all over her face, "How was Tony with the kids?"

"Well, you saw them yesterday life-action, didn't you?", Abby countered evasively.

"I did", Ziva smiled, smoothing out the blanket on top of her, "Tali was so much more comfortable around him, but-"

"They kinda got off on a bumpy start, they did. Especially Tali…", Abby relayed finally, her voice calmly even, "It's not easy for her. Isn't easy for Tony either, sure…re-learning being a fulltime daddy cold turkey. But he's doing good…he's doing _really_ good."

"And he did _not _push her?"

Ziva knew Tony had a tendency for extremes. Either he evaded problems or he tackled them head-on. Neither alternative would have worked on their daughter. Being the passive observer that she was, it was almost like putting on a show for her, making her see without pushing her nose face-down into it. That certainly wasn't Tony's preferred and intuitive method but it certainly paid off building layer upon layer of trust with his three-year-old daughter.

Abby grinned. "He was a little uber-eager at first but I think David put his head right."

"He did?" Ziva smiled, distantly proud of her son.

Still, she couldn't help but get a little wistful at the thought of involuntarily burdening her son with a task he was effectively too young to do. She knew things were much less grave and gruesome, but she simply couldn't help remembering young Ari carrying a similar burden back in his day and she so feared for both of her children to share but a fraction of the fate of their biological uncle and aunt. Maybe it was a mother's far-fetched, unsubstantiated concern, but that didn't make it less of a concern.

Noticing the pensive look that had instantly claimed her best friend's face, Abby knew exactly what Ziva was thinking about. "Don't you worry, okay? It's all in the balance of things", Abby assessed lightly, adding a serious edge by taking Ziva's uninjured hand in hers, "For having a hubby that can be as immature as a four-year-old little boy, you got a little boy that, _at times_, is acting more mature than his own father."

Ziva grinned. Abby was right, after all.

* * *

"In all my years as a doctor, I have never met a nurse that has executed her duty of warding off any cause for stress with such…_violent _protectiveness as that head nurse out there", Ducky commented a little aggravatedly upon his entry.

Ziva could only smile. She had been awaiting his visit ever since Abby and McGee had left a little over an hour ago. He was carrying two plain white china cups filled to the brim with tea. Ziva was amazed how steadily the seasoned Scotsman crossed the room successfully without wasting a drop of the soothing liquid. He offered one of them to Ziva, which she took with a grateful smile, and sat down in the chair McGee had placed next to Ziva's hospital bed a few hours earlier. Without a word, they both took a sip. Ziva relished the trickling sensation beyond her throat, the warmness that spread in the pit of her stomach.

"I see Abigail has lived up to her self-appointed mission of flowering your hospital room", Ducky assessed with a smile, his eyes roaming the livened room.

"She certainly has."

Seizing her reminiscently smiling face with a conscious look, he inquired finally, "How are you feeling, dear?"

"Much better", came the immediate answer. It was true, she was feeling much better.

"Much better compared to _when_?"

Ziva knew he wouldn't let her be, not like that - but she had counted on it, really. "Much better compared to yesterday."

"Is that the painkillers talking…or you?"

Ziva released a careful huff upon his cunningly raised eyebrows. "I do not wish to stay here much longer, Ducky."

"You did refuse intravenous analgesics."

"Because I do not need them", Ziva explained easily, "I have been injured far worse. You know this better than anyone."

Sighing vaguely, he fixed her with a decisive stare. "And that is exactly my reason for appealing to your prudence. You have been in a four-day coma, Ziva. That _is_ far worse. There are only so many severe injuries the human body can sustain…_your_ body can sustain."

"Ducky…", Ziva started softly, an appreciative smile persisting on her lips and grabbing a hold of his hand, "I promise you to be careful. But I really am feeling good. The chest pains I can live with and everything else is healing."

"You have been healing for _nine_ years…", he stated, his voice but a soft breeze of caution.

"It has gotten easier."

He nodded faintly. "I had an extensive talk with your Doctor Bennett. He is now read in on your entire medical history. Alas, given the dire circumstances, that could not have been avoided."

Ziva nodded understandingly despite the lump forming in her throat. She knew that Ducky's would not turn out to be a social visit in the undiluted sense of the word, but she understood that he, as her physician, needed to have that talk with her.

"My entire history?", she repeated hoarsely.

"Yes", Ducky answered decidedly but his voice was laced with gentleness, "And he shares my sentiment."

Immediately, Ziva's eyes shot open. "Ducky, I _cannot_-"

"You cannot _risk_ the potential consequences, Ziva. It was incalculably dangerous both times."

Her eyes clouded over and her voice broke before speaking. "I cannot tell Tony that."

"Do not make the mistake of underestimating Tony or Tony's love for you. He will understand, my dear. _If_ you choose to tell him, he will understand."

* * *

When she woke from her nap early in the afternoon, Ziva found Gibbs sitting on the chair beside her bed and staring at her intently. He was smiling. Blinking drowsiness from her eyes, she slowly sat up with a little help from his outstretched arm.

"How long have you been sitting here?", she asked quickly, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

"An hour…and a half", he answered easily, appearing unperturbed.

"How did you get past the head nurse if I have been sleeping the whole time?"

Gibbs smirked, tilting his head to the side. "Ducky said your results came back clear?"

Ziva scoffed inwardly at the very Gibbs-like dodging technique. "It appears so."

"How are you feeling, Ziver?", he inquired, leaning forward in his chair and absently tracing the knuckles of her uninjured hand with his finger.

"I-"

She was just about to answer when flashes of memories, lived pictures started flaring before her eyes. She could see Gibbs bending over her and holding her hand. She could see him talking indiscernibly to her. She could see him arguing with one of the paramedics. She could see him sit beside her, still holding her hand tightly in his. She was remembering.

"I called you", she stated artlessly, her gaze distantly unfocused.

He nodded, knowing that look, knowing what she was talking about.

"You went in the ambulance with me."

"Couldn't let you go alone."

"Thank you", her eyes regained focus and she turned them to lock with his, "For everything." Ducky had told her how Gibbs had been there for Tony, the prodigal son, despite their past differences and that something must have happened between the two of them.

"Couldn't let you go alone", he repeated, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"Both of us."

"I've never seen him mess up like that", Gibbs asserted decidedly, his serenely calm expression telling her not to protest just yet, "But I've never seen him try and put things right again like that either."

Maybe that's what catharsis sounded like.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

After her best-friend-visit Abby had received Gibbs' call, telling her that Tony's appeal had come through and that Chad Michaels' corpse as well as all the evidence from Ziva's accident that Metro had routinely secured - and that nobody had claimed thereafter - was en route to her lab. She had come in right after Jimmy had finished the autopsy and supplied her with stomach contents, a blood as well as a DNA sample. Having been ruled a suicide, Metro had quickly closed the Michaels case. NCIS had now officially re-opened it.

"What do you got, Abs?" Gibbs strolled into Abby's lab later in the afternoon after getting back from the hospital.

"Hail Montezuma, Gibbs!", Abby called out, the smile on her face growing to a big grin when Gibbs put a new cup of CafPow on her desk, "I just finished the works."

She started typing into her keyboard, a list of chemical substances and edibles appearing on the computer screen next to her. Gibbs leaned in to get a better look at it. "What am I looking at?"

"Analysis of the contents of Michaels' stomach", Abby eagerly launched her explanation, "The combination is typically Turkish but except for being a little out of the ordinary transnational food chain, nothing suspicious there." With a flick of a finger, however, she zoomed in on a particular item on the list that which instantly morphed into a compilation-graph. "But _this_ is. It's Baklava."

Gibbs nodded faintly for a moment before he turned back towards her, looking on questioningly.

Abby smiled. "Typically Turkish dessert but totally non-diabetes-suitable. And that's odd 'cause, according to his medical file, Michaels had _Diabetes Mellitus Type 1_ since childhood. It's caused by the body's failure to produce insulin", she continued, walking over to the evidence table and holding up a bag in an evidence bag, "Metro didn't find any insulin shots _on_ Michaels but they secured an emergency kit from the car's glove box that's never been used. Eating that amount of glucose he must've at least temporarily suffered from hyperglycemia, though."

"High blood sugar", Gibbs supplied.

Abby nodded. "Even if he _had_ eaten that beatin' sweetin' _voluntarily_, he would have known to pump his veins with insulin afterwards."

"Maybe he didn't get to it."

"More like he was already too far gone by then", Abby assessed, stepping back over to her desk and conjuring up another chart on her computer screen, "I found remnants of a hallucination inducing drug that's distantly related to the family of Lysergic Acid Diethylamide: LSD. They only partially made it into his blood stream. He never actually got to digesting some of it. But testing blood and hair samples shows he must've taken the drugs for about three to four weeks before the accident."

"Was brainwashed for weeks."

"And the last dose he took right before he rammed Ziva's car. Someone didn't care _what_ he ate. That food was either force-fed to him _so_ he would swallow the drugs or given to him while he was _already_ drugged, but it's very unlikely he did any of this willingly. The ongoing drug abuse _combined_ with hyperglycemia would have sent him through the roof." Abby ended with a pained expression on her face.

"He's a pawn. He's not the killer", Gibbs stated definitely, stepping towards the plasma screen where Abby had just put up an image of Michaels' totaled Chevrolet Malibu Classic, "He was drugged and brainwashed and then they used his car as a decoy."

"Means our killer…or _killers_…are still on the loose." Gibbs scoffed and turned to leave but Abby called out quickly, "Wait, Gibbs! I'm not finished with you yet."

She smiled when he dutifully came back over and reclaimed his place in front of the plasma.

"I found traces of pinaceae in the ventilator system of Michaels' impounded vehicle", Abby continued.

Gibbs turned around with a questioning scowl.

"Pines, Gibbs", Abby supplied matter-of-factly, "It's sawdust...the finest. I thought you of all people would know that."

Gibbs turned his head back to the screen just in time to hide his crooked smirk and to look at the map Abby had just pulled up.

"By a longshot I cross-searched the Washington D.C. area for Turkish restaurants and lumber mills and there's only one mill with a Turkish restaurant within a 20-mile-radius that's coincidentally only fifty miles from where Ziva's crash happened."

Stepping around the desk, Gibbs seized the forensic specialist with eyebrows raised high above his blazing sapphire eyes. "You know how I feel about coincidences, Abs."

"Yeah… Pretty much the same way you feel about long, elaborate conversations, apologies, diplomatic solutions, computers and about ten thousand other things you don't believe in?", she retorted.

He smiled, kissing her temple. "Damn right."

* * *

**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

He hung up the phone, his blue eyes blazing through the dim thickness of the room. The air was tight, aggravated. "They are investigating Ziva's accident", he declared colorlessly.

"Crap", the oldest of them cursed, flinging the un-smoked stub of his cigar against the far wall of the back partition.

"Not exactly", the green-eyed man cautioned immediately, not budging from his spot a little outside the circle the other three had subconsciously formed.

The only woman of the small, four-pointed group drew in a sharp breath. Her hands were twitching and itching. "But that means they won't even go look for the last message, they-"

"Don't you break your little head about that. I have insurance", the man with green eyes and black coat assured them, his vague smile hidden by the shadows the light painted on his creasing face.

"What the fuck? You were so sure they would pass over that fella's accident", the older man sneered.

"Some things never go as planned." He looked over at the blue-eyed man who let a derisive scoff escape his tight lips.

"What now?"

Green eyes kept blue eyes locked in a questioning stare. "You know what to do?"

"What I should have done in the first place."

Nodding, the green-eyed man turned around to face the other man, "It will end the way we planned it to end. We are merely taking a short-cut to that end, old boy."


	23. Mournings and Making Memories Part II

We are **approaching the end **and with this chapter one of the first loose ends of this story will be tied up, a first mystery resolved. Just to be clear, however: This story is **in canon with the series until the end of season 7** (and season 8 as far as the Reynosa-plot goes), so especially Ziva's is entirely my storyline - even though I very much love how they're currently dealing with it on the series :)

**THANK YOU, once more and again**, for your thoughts and reviews. I'm currently trying really hard to make time for writing the last chapters, which center around a quite intricate plot device. So, a shout-out to all of you reading this, enjoying this or not-so-much enjoying this: I would very much appreciate it, if you could drop me a line or two. It seems, I might be reaching for motivation here, people ;)

* * *

**Chap 2****3 Mournings and Making Memories - Part II**

_Wednesday, November 20__th__ 2018_

**3800 Reservoir Road, N.W. - Georgetown University Hospital**

After he had spent the entire morning phoning his way through a bureaucratic maze, Tony had gladly complied with Gibbs' evocative nod upon the elder agent's return from Abby's lab. After a short sit rep he had grabbed his things and left, taking Ziva's Mini down to the hospital. Driving a stick didn't bother him so much anymore, he realized for sure. He loved to see Ziva with the kids, he didn't begrudge her the time spent with her friends and family, but after two years of in-between visits and short-loved moments he wanted to savor every second spent with her in loving twosome-ness.

He had been sitting on her hospital bed, their hands entwined and their eyes locked, for about half an hour when suddenly the progress in their case came up. Tony was momentarily lost for words but filled her in nonetheless. The newest turn of events was, of course, the most delicate matter of all.

"There may be something else…", he started tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Abby found out that the fingerprint on the brain jar and the blood on Kent's clothes were from the same guy: a Chad Michaels."

"Never heard of him."

A nervous laugh escaped Tony's lips. "Figures…"

Ziva, picking up on Tony's evasive demeanor and, growing impatient, blurted out, "What is it, Tony?"

"He's the guy who caused your accident", Tony conceded artlessly.

He waited for a more violent reaction in Ziva but, merely, her eyebrows furrowed deeply and her eyes grew distant and unfocused. He was actually surprised she hadn't already noticed those two agents round-the-clock roaming the hospital and fought his and Gibbs' insistence on them.

"So the case and my accident _are_ related."

"Looks like it was no accident after all", Tony sighed heavily, "According to Abby, Michaels was drugged and brainwashed."

Realization hit Ziva with the force of another black sedan. Her eyes grew wide and settled on Tony, who looked on sympathetically. Sometimes, he had to admit, their life was a little much to bear. "It was a hit", she asserted evenly.

He could see that it was dawning on her and he had to admit, before she had said it out loud, it had been somewhat surreal. Things were positively coming thick and fast but his euphoria caused by Ziva's recuperation had outweighed his worry. Still, somebody had used Chad Michaels to kill her and made it look like an accident. It was still hard to wrap his mind around…

"Can you think of anyone who'd-"

"Tony", she cut in with a soft smile, shaking her head faintly, "There are many out there who have a score to settle with me. Most of them do not know who I am or where I am. Some of them do but do not think me a threat anymore. And I believe there are a few who would be willing to kill for their grudge."

Her nonchalance was silently irritating him. "But you don't-"

"No, I don't."

"How can you be so arctic about this? I'm freaking out here", he exclaimed, his eyes widening.

Ziva breathed out a chuckle, her freshly washed locks bouncing vaguely on her shoulders. "You do not look very…freaked."

"I'm a silent freaker." His expression stayed serene while his emeralds divulged his battle of _concern vs. glee_.

A smile crossed her face. "It is a reality of my past that can catch up with me any moment. A past I fled from. I was lucky so far…and I refuse to let my past dim our lives."

"Someone wanted to kill you, Ziva."

"Someone wants to kill us every time we turn a leaf in our jobs."

"That's not the same." He shook his head adamantly.

"Is it not?", she inquired suggestively, "It is the risk we take. It is the risk we subject our children to, Tony. If anything, I can only hope that they will never be caught in the middle of it…but it is what it is." She had always had a strong sense for blunt realism in her life.

"I know", he affirmed offhandedly, "But I won't allow no _Vendetta_ rip-offs to take you away from me…not again. That clear?"

"Yes, Tony, it is crystal clear", she smiled, leaning forward to capture his lips with hers.

Tony subconsciously scooted closer to her and gripped her hand a little tighter. "Do you remember anything about the accident?"

"I told you I- The last thing I remember is getting into your car. The rest is a blank", Ziva sighed, impatient with her own injuries.

"Well, that's retrograde amnesia to you."

"But it is important, is it not?"

He realized their current conversation, no matter her nonchalant demeanor, was probably the added stress nurses and doctors kept telling him about to avoid at all cost. "Yes, but don't you worry. We'll get whoever did this to us."

She found comfort in his good-natured smile, in the loving caresses. "Thank you for the _'us'_."

"It's always been an _'us'._", he countered decidedly, "Just more of a _Get Smart _than _Charlie's Angels_ kind. And who knows…maybe it will be even more of an _'us'_ in the near future." Tony couldn't resist putting on the cunning trademark grin as Ziva's eyes widened with future joy.

She was about to open her mouth when the door to the room opened and Dr. Bennett stepped in. Sensing he had interrupted an intimate moment between the two, he slipped on an apologetic smile as he crossed the room and took a stand next to them. They looked at him expectantly, almost timidly.

"Having reviewed your recent results I have no grounds for holding you any longer", he declared immediately, an even wider smile settling on his face.

Tony breathed a laugh of triumph, raising their entwined hands to his lips and kissing hers. Ziva let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Doctor."

"The cast will be removed in about one and a half weeks. The amnesia will leave you with headaches that are completely normal. They _should_ wear off in the upcoming days and weeks but there is a chance that parts of your memory will remain blank. That is common and nothing to worry about. You might also experience extensive fatigue, just…", Doctor Bennett continued benevolently, "Take it easy. No lifting or carrying kids for the time being. Your rips haven't fully healed together yet, we probably can't take the plates out for another few weeks. And that sternum of yours still needs a lot of caution to fall back into place."

"Thanks, Doc", Tony smiled, shaking Bennett's hand, "We'll restrain her Hannibal Lecter style if necessary."

* * *

After the nurse-on-duty had checked Ziva's vitals one last time and Tony had returned from filling out the release forms and scheduling subsequent check-ups, he retrieved the bag he had brought along upon Ducky's prudent advice. Ziva was more than happy to get out of the hospital bed. She had taken a few tours around the hospital alright but she hadn't been allowed far and the outside had hitherto been out of question. Standing in front of her with her clothes in hand, however, Tony realized - they _both_ realized - she was far from capable of dressing herself. Thus, without another word uttered, Tony stepped up and helped her change. Fixing her hair per her calm instructions, his eyes fell on the familiar scars on her back and, when she turned, on the much happier scar on her stomach from Tali's C-section.

When he helped her wriggle into the arm of her long-sleeved shirt, his eyes fell on the 2-inch scar on her right wrist, leading from the wrist joint upwards. He didn't think twice and gave in to a sudden urge he had never felt before, not like that, not so blunt. The words simply tumbled out of his mouth, "Did you ever try to…to…kill yourself?"

Ziva turned to look at him and found him staring at her wrist. She had no idea where his unexpected question had come from, after all he had seen that scar countless times in the past. Despite all that she smiled softly. "Have you ever heard of anyone who was still alive after I tried to kill them?"

A knowing grin flickered swiftly across his face but she could tell he was more than serious. And they could both think of at least one person, who made her utterance appear much less of the sarcastic remark she had intended it to be.

Getting serious herself, she rolled her eyes up, searching for his. When she finally found them, ambers in emeralds, she stated calmly, "No, Tony, I never attempted to end my own life. That is nothing I would ever do, no matter the torture. It is against my beliefs, my faith...in life."

"Not even in that...desert, you didn't?"

Ziva shook her head vaguely. She gently seized his arm and he could only look at her, curious. She led his hand to her wrist, guided his fingers across the fairly small scar. "This scar did not come about because I tried to slit my wrists."

He was so close to her face now, so intimate. In a moment any less momentous he would have crossed the small distance to kiss her. He didn't. Instead he kept looking at her, staring intently at her. "How?"

Her mouth gaped open with the first syllable, her eyes questioning, unsure. The conversation she had had that morning with Ducky in that very room sprang to her mind. _Could she tell him?_ "You do not really want to know."

"I do", he placed both of his hands tenderly on her upper arms, steadying her, "I do want to know. I _need_ to know."

"Tony, there are ramifications attached to that knowledge- ramifications I-"

"It doesn't matter."

She smiled sadly, the ninja walls behind her eyes crumbling to pathetic pieces of restraint. She focused on him, on his face, on Tony's face. She always feared, remembering Somalia, remembering her torture, she would lose the grip on reality. He was real, Tony was so real before her.

"I... I accidentally cut my wrist on a nail in the...the wall when I..."

She stopped. Her heart started pounding against her chest. Tony merely tightened his hold on her, leaning slightly forward to brush a kiss against her forehead.

"When I was pushed up against it...when I was-", she continued, her voice intelligibly lower and fainter but consciously firm.

He knew what needed to come, knew how her recount would end, what she would say. But he also knew she needed to say it, she needed to relay whatever pain they had caused her so that he could understand, so that they could go on.

"-when I was raped."

Her shoulders subconsciously squared against his tightening touch. He looked into her eyes. She had been carrying the weight of it for over nine years. Feeling soiled, filthy no matter how hard she had scrubbed at her hands, her face or the insides of her thighs. It hadn't mattered. She had still felt wasted in the cruellest of senses. She had spent hours in the shower, so long she had later been able to peel off flaps of skin from all over her body. Only when Tony had made love to her for the first time - not _slept_ with her but made _love_ to her - had some of her inner ordeal ended. She still wasn't done.

He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her so tightly he feared he might crush her but it didn't matter. Not to him and not to her. They needed to be close, closer even. For some time she kept her eyes shut, breathing in his scent, nuzzling her face against what she knew, with absolute certainty, was every fibre of a body that would protect her, love her and behold her - no matter what.

"I miscarried."

It was but a faint breath of voice, the exhalation of the unspeakable, but Tony's eyes shot open immediately. He had, just like her, lingered in the moment, blissfully content with her body close to his, shielding her. Suddenly, the heart in his chest came tumbling down. He had always suspected that she had been raped. After all, he knew how to read her. Her eyes would gain a glimmer of understanding, a special kind of sympathy when she talked to rape victims at work. He still remembered the knowing look she had shared with Ducky the day of David's birth when paramedics inquired about previous genital injury. Somehow he had always known. And in the first months of their relationship he had been cautious not to push her, had moved at her pace alone, had waited for her to be ready and feel safe enough with him to follow through.

When he felt her inhale, he decided against pulling back to look at her. He merely lowered his hands to the small of her back so that she could lean against him more comfortably.

"Ducky said I was..._somehow_...fortunate enough to have a complete abortion only a few weeks into the pregnancy. No tissue...had remained that could have gotten infected", she started evenly.

It had always been easier to start with the medical details. That's how Ducky had started their conversation so many years ago, that's how she had started telling ever since. Two people. She had told that story of a lifetime to only two more people after Ducky. Abby, Abby knew. Ziva had told her when her best friend was breaking down about not being able to have a child. Now Tony. And she didn't know, she wasn't sure how he would take it, but some uncanny certainty inside of her made her go on.

"I was not...raped..._often_ but repetitively. It is a very effective method of mental and physical torture after all", she added the last part in a sardonic half-whisper. The cynicism of her own words didn't repel her. Sometimes she needed to be cynical, she had simply seen too much. Tony understood that.

"Three months into my captivity I noticed that I was late. I knew...I just _knew_ that I was pregnant. A woman knows those things and...that I would-" Her voice broke off and she subconsciously gripped the hem of his shirt.

He felt a lump form in his throat. He couldn't imagine how she had felt, knowing that one of her torturers had impregnated her. He couldn't imagine how she had felt, but right now he felt fury, downright fury boil and curl within him.

"I knew it and still...my mind shut itself off, I- They did not stop torturing me. They kept kicking and beating and starving me. I know...I told them, I know that I told them, but-", her voice sounded distantly pleading, "And then suddenly, only a few weeks later, I started bleeding and once more I _knew_...I knew I had- Lost the baby."

And she pulled back. Her voice sounded so final and yet so feeble. She found Tony look back at her, sadness and disbelief shining in his eyes, but he was looking at her, trying to tell her that he was there, always would be. A vague smile crossed her lips. The hardest part, for her, was yet to come and she knew it.

"I was glad."

In a typical Ziva-motion she shook her head, slightly, and a quick, sad smile slipped from her face and her mouth gaped open, slightly, with the heaviness of her own words. And Tony was trying so hard to hold on to her words, to process them, wrap his mind around them. Her eyes briefly drifted to the wall opposite them.

"I was weak and malnourished and I did not get medical care", she explained, yes, defended herself, letting her eyes speak of the guilt and ordeal within her, "I do not know what would have happened to that child, what they would have done."

Vomit tickled at his throat as his mind picked up on her words and an array of answers to her would-haves started flashing and rushing through his mind. He felt sick. He felt disgusted. She needed to end what she had started.

"They did not rape me afterwards, thought me unclean after finding me in a puddle of my own blood", she continued, trying to keep her voice steady, trying to remember all those months of talking and therapy and trying to come to terms with the horror that was her past and the horror that were her own undeniable feelings.

"When you rescued me...I was broken. I had gotten over myself, over what I had done to my family, to _you_", she couldn't refrain from addressing him with all the love and devotion she felt, "But I couldn't get over the fact that...beneath all my anguish, I was also feeling gladness at having lost my child. That day...I- I told you I was ready to die, that death was the only punishment I now deserved. I- It didn't... I deserved to die because I was glad I had lost that child."

_-I did not ask for anyone to put themselves in harm's way for me. I do not deserve it. _

_-So what are you doing outta here? Some kind of a monastic experience? Doing penance?_

_-It is justified. _

_-Get over yourself._

_-I have. Now you tell Saleem everything he wants to hear and you try to save yourselves. I am ready to die._

If she could have hoped for any kind of reaction in him, for any kind of sign as to his feelings, she would have hoped for him to do what he ultimately did. Tony took a step towards her, reaching out his hand to touch her face and wipe away the lone tear that meandered down her cheek.

"You didn't-", he croaked suddenly, hoarsely.

A smile settled on her face. "Ducky made me seek therapy. All those months I seemed so withdrawn, when I didn't want you to visit or help?" He nodded his head. "I was trying to live with myself again."

He couldn't hold back any longer, he engulfed her in another hug, kissing the top of her head, hoping it was the only absolution she needed from him.

"I know I cannot change the past", she stated heavily, "But it is the present that I would not want to change either."

"Me neither", he retorted instantly. She pulled back just enough so she could roll her eyes up to meet his. "Without you...I-" Before he could end his sentence she had lent up to kiss him, softly, almost chastely. She had punished herself enough.

He knew he was in no position to judge her and he wouldn't. He had fallen in love with Ziva and everything that was her. If that meant assuring her that she was meant to deserve every second of every minute of her life - with her children, with him, Tony, with their family - then he would do so, gladly.

"I love you."

"Thank you", she reached out her hand to caress his cheek, "I love you too."

* * *

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Their drive home was a silent one. They were both deeply carried away in thought. Tony was still trying to comprehend what she had told him. Sometimes he wondered how Ziva could have ever become the person she was, the _mother_ she was. Or maybe, maybe it was just because of her gruelling past. He didn't know. What he did know, however, was that he had gained a new kind of respect, of admiration for the woman he loved. A part of him realized that he should have asked her sooner, demanded the truth earlier, but he was sick and tired of what-ifs and should-haves. He was glad that he had asked. He was glad that he knew. And looking over at Ziva and the distant relaxation in her face and demeanour told him...she was too.

When he helped her out of the car she proved that assertion by softly bringing his lips down on hers, kissing him as softly as she had before. It was more than lust, more than passion; love.

Upstairs Ziva settled on the couch with an abundance of blankets and cushions surrounding her while Tony went to pick up David from school and Tali from a friend's house. They hadn't told them that Ziva would be home, as invigorating was their excitement when they entered the living room to find their mother waiting there for them. Tony had only locked the door behind them and discarded their things by the door, but, when he joined them, they had already cuddled up with Ziva on the couch. David was snuggling up to her side with her uninjured arm draped protectively around him. Tali lay with her head in Ziva's lap and Ziva was caressing the little girl's wayward curls. Tony knowingly suggested a movie and take-out for dinner, and claimed the spot on the floor by Ziva's feet, Tali's arms lazily falling over his shoulder.

By the time the end credits were rolling artfully, Tali had already fallen asleep. Tony got up with a knowing smile and carried her upstairs, while David remained with Ziva.

Ziva slightly shifted in her position to get a better look at her son. He seemed thoughtfully preoccupied, had been all throughout dinner. "Do you want to tell me what is bothering you, neshomeleh?"

"Nothin'", he returned instantly, dodging her eyes.

Ziva tilted her head forward, bringing her face and gaze close to him. "David..."

He turned his head to look at her, the subsequent movement of his upper body against her chest causing her to wince inwardly. The little boy searched her eyes intently. "Ms. Miller told me off yesterday", he relayed finally, his voice laden with agitation, "She said I didn't do my homework. But I didn't do it 'cause I missed school when you...you had the accident."

She could see he was direly affected by his teacher's reprimand. After all, school was his small world and injustice was obviously reining it right now. Biting back the protective anger that flared within her, Ziva inquired calmly, "Did you try to tell her that?"

"Ah-huh", David nodded, "She didn't listen."

"Do you want your dad or me to go and talk to her about it?"

"Nah...it's okay", he sighed, settling his head back against her shoulder.

The resignation in his voice was almost unbearable. "David, look at me, please."

The six-year-old did as he was told.

"What Ms. Miller did was unfair to you", Ziva explained evenly, "Has this happened before?"

David shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes...", he admitted tentatively, "Not a lot, though."

"Listen to me", Ziva started, raising her uninjured hand to his cheek, "Whenever you feel that Ms. Miller or _anybody_ else is unfair to you, you will come to your daddy or me and tell us, yes?"

David nodded somewhat vaguely.

"Nobody has the right to treat you unfairly."

"Why did Ms. Miller tell me off then?", he inquired irritably.

"Well, you see, sometimes we do not realize we are unfair to others", Ziva started explaining, "You know how you always talked to Tali in Hebrew even though she could not understand it yet?"

The little boy nodded, a distant smirk tugging at his lips.

Ziva smiled knowingly. "You did not know that it was unfair to your little sister then. But I told you and now you know."

"So you'll go to Ms. Miller and tell her she's mean to me 'cause she doesn't know?" He scrunched his forehead up in very Tony-like wrinkles.

Ziva breathed out a soft chuckle. "Maybe. But sometimes we are unfair to others...and we _know_ that we are being unfair but we _still_ are."

"Why?"

"That I do not know. Only people themselves know why they are being unfair", Ziva conceded sombrely, caressing his cheek.

For a moment he took his time to process Ziva's words. Then he perked up again, "You gonna ask Ms. Miller if she knows she's unfair...sometimes?"

"If you want us to, yes." Ziva nodded with a benevolent smile.

"You go?", he inquired coyly.

"Your daddy and I, we will both go."

"'kay."

A true and relieved smile settled on David's face and Ziva leaned in to plant a small kiss on his nose, eliciting a small laugh from the little boy. Careful with her injury, Ziva gently pulled him back into her, enjoying the time alone with her son. His head was resting on her shoulder while she was stroking his arm soothingly.

Suddenly, without looking up, he asked, "Mommy?"

"Yes, tateleh?" She could tell something was on his mind again.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

Ziva pulled the six-year-old a little closer even, tilting her head forward and whispering into his ear, "Of course you can."

"Daddy's _really_ fun...and he did _all_ the things you do. And his s'ghetti's good as you's", the little boy assessed decidedly, lowering his voice to a soft whisper, "But I really missed you, mommy."

"I missed you too, tateleh", Ziva said quietly, kissing the top of his head, "But you do not have to keep this a secret. It is alright to miss me when your daddy is here alone. And it is alright to miss your daddy when I am here alone."

Rolling his emerald eyes up at her and smiling a cunning smile, David stated ingenuously, "'s best with you and daddy both."

Behind them on the darkened staircase sat Tony, watching them with a smile on his face.

* * *

After Tony had finally come out of the shadows and made his presence known, Ziva had given her son a kiss goodnight and Tony had guided him upstairs and gotten him ready for bed. Back downstairs they had eventually settled on the couch in partner-esque togetherness. She was watching him from her position cuddled up against him, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. She didn't much care for the program he had selected but she could tell he liked it, very much indeed.

"You enjoying your view?", he asked suddenly, his smile growing to a knowing grin without looking at her.

"I love your true smiles", she answered earnestly.

This did eventually capture his full attention and he slightly tilted his head back and turned his gaze into her. "True smiles?"

"Yes. Not the smug ones, the sarcastic ones, the terse ones. The _true_ smiles", she explained easily, "I can tell you are enjoying yourself."

"Well, let's see", he mused, "I'm watching an ever-classic, the love of my life just awoke from a coma and you were right, my daughter doesn't really hate my guts. Life's very enjoyable right now."

"I know you are not supposed to say it…but I told you so", she deadpanned.

Tired from today's - even if pleasurable - upheaval, Ziva closed her eyes and relaxed into Tony's embrace. The latter meanwhile lost himself in his train of thoughts, remembering the talk they had had at Giacomo's almost a week ago and what Gibbs had said in the elevator.

He asked suddenly, "Was I whining?"

Without opening her eyes her answer was immediate. "Yes."

"Really?"

The quietly disbelieving timbre in his voice caused Ziva to open her eyes again and look at him. "Yes", she reiterated with a smile, "But that is part of your charm."

Despite her buoyancy, however, his gaze remained solemn and his expression somber.

"Tony, feeling sorry for yourself is part of how you deal with things. I know this. Your family knows this", she continued on a much more serious note, "You had the very difficult task of choosing between your family and your job. You had to choose between two dreams. One was stronger at that time than the other. That is okay."

"I shouldn't have left. It was the wrong choice I made", he conceded matter-of-factly.

"It was okay. And do you know why?"

He shook his head faintly.

"Because I was here to play the part in our family. I supported your choice because I know that you would not have felt whole if you had never tried to reach out in your job", Ziva lifted her hand to touch his cheek, "If now you feel you made the wrong choice, it is your prerogative as a human being to admit that and move on."

"I think Abby, Tim and Gibbs said the exact same thing...different wording, though", he chuckled softly.

"It must bear some truth then."

"I love _you_…I love the _kids_. It's okay. I get it. But... All this crap that's happened in the last four days- It showed me that I can't live without you..._or_ them."

Ziva raised her eyebrows knowingly. "Then don't…anymore."

He leaned over and kissed her, softly. Pulling back, he smiled. Then he wouldn't...anymore.

* * *

_Feel like sharing a thought or two? Please do so - insert thought via button down there!_


	24. Near the End there's an Abyss Part I

**THANK YOU **for your reviews.

**YOU WILL FIND IN THIS CHAPTER** two more important mysteries solved as we uncover the identity of one of the bad guys...and then some.

**IT WILL BE** the more information- and case-driven first part of a two-part build-up to the **BIG FINALE.**

**ENJOY**...and **REVIEW.**

**

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**Chap 24 Near the End there's an Abyss - Part I**

_Thursday, November 21__st__ 2018_

**West Clark Street -**** Apartment 7**

"I thought I heard her Tali-toe down the hall", Tony commented upon entering the living room at around half past six in the morning.

His de-drowsing eyes had just fallen on mother and daughter cuddled up together on the couch. Ziva was carefully leaning against the back of the couch in the exact same position he had left her the night before. What he hadn't left was Tali, who had reclaimed her spot next to her mother. She was sleeping peacefully, heaving deep, slumbering breaths. Her head was resting in Ziva's lap and a blanket was draped around the pair. The TV was running on mute.

When Tony, already clad in his work clothes, sat down on the coffee table across from them, he found Ziva smiling softly. "She sneaked down five seconds after you stepped into the shower yesterday."

Tony's eyebrows raised incredulously, a grin playing on his lips. "Ha! She waited till I was gone, so she'd have you all to herself... I guess, that's what you get with a little Mossad offspring."

"NCIS offspring", Ziva corrected, lovingly staring down at her daughter and smoothing back some fallen curls.

The grin carved even deeper lines into Tony's face as he watched them. "She missed you." He didn't know why he kept telling Ziva that but he felt that he should. It was true, after all. All of them had missed her.

Ziva nodded softly, her eyes still affixed to Tali's tranquil features.

"I'll get David up and ready and then I'll come back down to get her", Tony stated eventually, drawing himself away from the serenely blissful scene of somewhat normalcy that presented itself to him.

"I will prepare breakfast then...", Ziva retorted, her voice still a little lost in the morning.

"Ziva, Apple of my Eye, Sweetest of Cheeks, Super-Ninja-Woman...", Tony started lightly, crouching down next to the couch, so she wouldn't have to stretch looking up at him, "Doctor Bennett said to take it easy."

"Tony, I am perfectly capable of standing at the counter and preparing breakfast", she argued, her dark eyes glimmering with determination.

"No, you're not", he stated simply, the tone of his voice unusually firm.

She was about to protest but the simplicity of his words snatched her back to dire reality. She knew it, too. Taking a cast, a cracked sternum, two pairs of fixated rips and unfurling headaches into account, she knew she was positively incapable of preparing breakfast - and much else.

"Will you take it easy..._please_?"

The sincerity in his emerald eyes ensconced an affirmative smile in her face. "Alright."

"Thank you", he answered, mirroring her smile and brushing a soft kiss against her forehead, "Sarah volunteered to come early today, so she should be here any minute. She'll look after you for the day, so play nice."

He left her groan and scowl with a grin, jogging upstairs to wake up his son. Twenty minutes later and fully awake, David had assured him that he was a big boy and could put on his clothes all by himself. Thus, Tony returned to the living room and to the jingle of Tali's soft giggles. Any sound other than an irritable grunt from his daughter before eight o'clock in the morning was highly unusual, he had learned that much, but giggling was way up on her exponential mood-scale. He couldn't help but stop hard in his tracks halfway into the room, mesmerized by the sight and elated into stiffness: The TV was now glimmering with reruns of _Sesame Street_, still on mute. Instead, Ziva was leaning in close to Tali, who was kneeling on the couch next to her, and whispering made-up dialogue into the little girl's ear in what must have been a mash of English and Hebrew. Tali seemed to wholeheartedly enjoy herself and it seemed to Tony like the first time in a very long and enduring time. He only had to bring himself to interrupt when Tali, in all her three-year-old excited eagerness, inadvertently patted her mother's side and Ziva's shoulders tensed in choked pain.

"Look who's talking", he exclaimed as he approached. The interruption made Tali stop shuffling around and earned Tony a grateful smile from Ziva.

"Mommy!", the little girl answered matter-of-factly, throwing her arms up into the air and causing both adults to laugh.

"Come on, princess, let's make you even prettier." Tony held out his hand, knowing right well that picking the three-year-old up, no premonition issued, would have probably sent her into squirming protests.

Tali, however, disregarded his hand and turned towards her mother. Her ambers glistening hopefully, she asked in a small voice, "Mommy come too?"

"I still cannot move well enough, tateleh. But I will wait for you here", Ziva explained calmly, caressing the little girl's cheek.

"Ooooh-kay."

Tony helped the three-year-old hop down from the couch and flashed Ziva another smile before he guided the little girl upstairs, where David was presently winning the fight against his sweater. He herded both of them into the hall and crouched down to their eye-level. They looked at him in curious anticipation.

"You remember how we talked about being really careful with mommy right now?", Tony inquired slowly, raising his eyebrows.

They nodded their heads, Tali a little bit more enthusiastically than David.

"Mommy will have some problems moving for a while, she will need help standing up or sitting down. And she can't sleep upstairs in our bed either because her chest still hurts. You remember the special band-aid around her chest, right?"

Once again, they both nodded their heads dutifully and in unison.

"But if we take really good care of her, mommy will be all good again _really_ soon. Do you think we can do that? Can we take care of mommy together?", Tony asked, holding out his hand with his palm facing towards the floor.

"Yup." David placed his hand on top of Tony's and smiled at his father determinedly.

Tali observed their display somewhat warily for a moment but upon her big brother's resolute example, mimicked his every move with her chubby little hand. "Mommy bedda!", she exclaimed eagerly.

"That's right, princess. We'll make mommy better." Tony beamed at them.

* * *

David eventually left to go downstairs and keep Ziva company while Tony led Tali to the bathroom. The day before had been his first school-morning alone with the kids and, even though he had been unable to deny the nervous cramps in his stomach, they had managed just fine. Tali happily accepted dealing out instructions that Tony just as happily followed and filed away in the back of his mind for future routine use. Once the little girl was fully dressed and polished pretty, an inquisitive gaze settled on her face. Seeing her stand in the middle of the hall with her eyebrows knitted together, Tony couldn't hold back a small chuckle.

"What is it, princess?"

Her chocolate brown eyes slowly rolled up at him. "Mommy do my hair?"

He couldn't contain his smile at the coy shyness in her little voice. "Sure can do." He quickly fetched a box full of Ziva's hair accessories off her dressing table and handed them to Tali.

He watched the little girl sprint off down the hall, following her in idle content. When he arrived downstairs, Tali was already kneeling on the couch next to her mother and Ziva was skilfully abiding by Tali's every hair-related and excitedly issued wishes. He realized the little girl had gone with her hair down, quite simply, for all four days of Tony's morning reign. For some reason, however, she hadn't even voiced any wishes or complaints to Abby, even though he was convinced Abby would have been no less competent to hairstyle his little princess.

Leaving his girls to his little girl's hair, Tony beckoned David towards him and the two boys started on breakfast alongside each other. Ziva couldn't refrain from stealing glance after glance at the pair in the kitchen, loving the easy sync which father and son appeared to have fallen into. In the meantime she had a hard time following Tali's tale about the characters of her favourite show. Apparently, the little girl wanted to catch Ziva up to what she had missed, even though Ziva didn't usually watch TV with them if it weren't for a movie. Besides that, it being Thursday and all, Ziva couldn't have missed much either way, but she simply couldn't dim the three-year-old's eagerness with the reality of things. And really, she loved the so Tali-like attention, especially considering the early morning hours.

Her loving gaze alternating between the father-son-duet in the kitchen and Tali's sweet rambling, Ziva felt outright happy.

"Breakfast is served, Milady."

Tony suddenly jerked her out of her distal reverie, holding out his arms to help her stand from the couch. Under his vigilant and imminent watch she cautiously and slowly walked towards the kitchen table and sat down. After Ziva had safely positioned herself on the chair, she started sipping away at her jasmine tea, consciously deciding to eat and take her meds later on - with the kids gone. Right now, however, the scene unfolding around her was positively occupying all of her loving attention anyway.

Tony seemed wholeheartedly focused on his fatherly tasks with Tali and David patiently waiting their respective turns. Ziva briefly considered offering her assistance, albeit knowing it to be a futile appeal, but they did right well by themselves. David accepted Tony's help without throwing in the odd insistence on doing it all by himself and Tali seemed determined enough to keep casualties of her eating habits at the absolute minimum. To Ziva it appeared like an entirely new routine that was settling gradually - a new routine, sight unseen. She couldn't wait to rejoin, but right now she felt oddly content in the role of fairly silent observer.

When Sarah arrived a few minutes later, she found exactly that scene of a family, still somewhat disheveled, slipping into new dynamics - a slip for the better, she hoped. While Tony was collecting his things, Sarah helped the kids with theirs and Ziva out of her chair, so that she could see them off properly.

Drawing back from a kiss to David's forehead, however, Ziva noticed the pensive look on his face. "What is it, tateleh?", she asked, placing a hand on the side of his face.

"Can't we stay?"

"Stay?"

David nodded decidedly. "With you."

"Sway with you, mommy", Tali reinforced, carefully hugging Ziva's leg and looking up at her mother with hopefully widened eyes.

Ziva put her uninjured arm around Tali and looked over at Tony who was waiting by the front door, finding a small perceptive smile prancing along his face. "You cannot stay here with me all day."

"Why?", David challenged.

"You both have school."

"We missed school lots when you were away."

'_Away'_ was such a nicely and innocently placed euphemism for the brink of death she had been staggering along for the last few days. "Just the more reason not to miss it."

"Wanna sway", Tali reiterated, putting her head against Ziva's leg and pulling her even closer.

"You will see me again very soon."

"Pwomise?", the little girl questioned, looking back up at her mother.

"I promise, I will not go away", Ziva assured them, lifting her sincere gaze to meet David's questioning stare, "I promise you both."

"Hear-hear! May Daddy Tony be witness, your mom is going to stay right where she is", Tony cut in suddenly, more towards Ziva than the kids anyway.

Ziva smiled as Tony gently shoved both kids out of the door. Before he followed suit, however, he jumped back into the foyer. He carefully leant down and placed a sweet kiss against Ziva's awaiting lips, his eyes locking with hers.

"I love you..._every_ facet of you. And I'm proud of you", he whispered, for her knowing ears only, and brushed another kiss against her temple. Leaving Ziva to her smile, he finally left to drop off David and Tali at school and resume his re-assigned position at NCIS.

Sarah went to lock the door behind them. "So, I guess you're stuck with me for the day", Sarah quipped benevolently. When she turned around, however, she found Ziva staring back at her, the look in her eyes positively mischievous.

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Tony hadn't even made it halfway to the bullpen the first time around since Gibbs had practically shoved McGee into his arms and back into the elevator with the hardly subtle demand to go and check out the Turkish restaurant Abby had identified as highly valid to the iunctim of Chad Michaels' not-so accident and their very-much-so murder case. Returning now from their first joint field assignment in years, they seemed oddly in tandem.

Tony was nodding his head erratically as they stepped off the elevator together. "She was giving you the McOgle, McAsanova."

"She was not", McGee countered decidedly, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"And to quote every single slightly chauvinist teen-love movie ever written for the screen", Tony argued back, deepening his voice, "She was totally checking you out, dude."

"She couldn't have been, because she couldn't keep her eyes off of you long enough to look at me", McGee stated simply, "And now could you _please_ keep it down? Abby might be around here somewhere." Out of habit his investigatively trained eyes roamed the squadroom.

"Ha! You're just afraid your girlfriend's gonna hear you admitting that bar lady was hitting on you, Tim."

McGee suddenly and with determination stopped hard in his tracks. Tony stopped along and the two former and newly re-instated colleagues faced each other's denial off right outside the bullpen. "First off, I'm just concerned for the bar lady's safety. In case you haven't noticed, said girlfriend could kill without a spill."

A silent _'Ah'_ slipped from Tony's lips and an affirmative nod found its way into his attitude.

"And secondly, the only reason you won't admit a woman was undressing you with her eyes is that you're just as afraid Ziva will find out." The younger agent smirked knowingly, the tilting flip of his head emphasizing his all-too-true point.

Tony's lips twitched. "She's wounded. I have nothing to fear."

McGee chuckled.

"The woman has super-skills, cosmic capabilities. I tell you, she's telepathic. She'd-"

"Might wanna consider close quarter threats, DiNozzo", Gibbs cut in dryly, appearing right behind Tony.

"Well, if it isn't Jor-El", Tony quipped with a content smile. Both agents followed Gibbs into the bullpen.

"Boss, we found-", McGee started but was cut off by Tony, who held his palm up right in front of his face.

All of a sudden Tony handed him his backpack, turned on his heel and mounted Ziva's desk. "Attention, squadroomers!", he yelled, behaving much like a ringmaster on his penultimate tour. All eyes were quickly and distinctly on him. "It is my deeply felt..._deeply_ felt...pleasure to announce: The Ninja has returned!"

He completed a full pirouette as if to illuminate every corner of the office with his radiant grin. "Thank you."

Not waiting for the waning claps, he jumped down from the desk, took his backpack from McGee and turned to Gibbs, whose eyebrows hadn't furrowed as much as Tony had expected them to. "The bar lady confirmed that Michaels was at the restaurant an hour before Ziva's accident. She said he was with some guy he seemed to know. Described him as - and I quote - dark, blue-eyed and grab-assy handsome."

Gibbs shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"We also took a look at their security cameras but Michaels and the mystery man somehow knew how to avoid them", McGee added quickly, stepping over to his old desk, "So, we brought her in with us. She is down with the sketch artist as we speak."

"She also said Michaels seemed kinda jittery which, considering the amount of LSD composite Abby found in his bloodstream, is probably putting it lightly. They only ordered to go", Tony continued evenly, putting away his backpack and joining Gibbs in front of the centre plasma screen.

"We went through the receipts. One of them matches the contents of Michaels' stomach from forty minutes before the accident."

"This morning I also ran a full background check on Michaels", McGee declared, grabbing the remote on his way to stand next to the other two men.

"No family, no friends?"

"Guessed right, boss."

"Not a guess, Tim."

Tony's eyebrows rose definitely. "Two's a coincidence, but _three_-"

"Three's a pattern." Gibbs nodded his head vaguely.

"I found nothing unusual on his bank statements and phone records, just that there were fewer withdrawals and less calling activity in the last two to three months", McGee explained, clicking his clarification through appertaining documents.

Tony raised an elucidated finger and quickly turned around to fetch a file from his desk. "Which corresponds with the statements we took from his co-workers at the _Duncan Crawford Private Clinic_ yesterday. Apparently, his not-so-secret nickname was _Mr. Monk_... Tells you everything you need to know about the guy."

Gibbs, however, kept staring at his Senior Field Agent in deadpan anticipation.

Tony cleared his throat. "Meticulous to the point of obsessive compulsive behavior, which would back the theory that he didn't just grow a sweet tooth all of a sudden...but that somebody shoved dessert down his throat."

"And he was a nurse, so he had enough medical training to open a skull and take out an eyeball without damaging it too much."

"As it turns out, he was showing more and more signs of clinical depression over the last couple of months. It got so bad he was appointed a month-long leave from work, which explains why nobody missed him either."

"Brainwashed him, made everyone believe he was depressed."

"That way no one would question his suicide." McGee did a final flick of the finger and Chad Michaels' death certificate appeared on the plasma screen.

"So, that is what my _'almost'_ looks like."

Three pairs of eyes whirled around at the unexpected sound of voice, three pairs of eyes landing on Ziva with different surprise/irritation ratios. She was clad in her usual workday attire. The extra-light cast on her left arm appeared almost perfectly in sync with her overall appearance, her hair was falling down her back in smooth curls and her face looked all but radiant with determination. Her posture, however, was unbefitting the rest of her: Her steps seemed heavily cautious, occasional shooting pains flashed across her otherwise serene expression, and her uninjured arm was positioned at too acute an angle against her side not to stir concerned suspicion in all three men.

"What- What are you doing here?", Tony blurted out suddenly, "How did you even get here?"

"I persuaded Sarah to take me."

"You did what? How?"

"Now, you're actually surprised?", McGee cut in, a frown settling on his face.

"Right...", Tony slowly seemed to regain focus, "I'm talking to the woman who convinced loyal henchmen to sell out their leader. You could've probably convinced Bourne to suck it up with the amnesia crap and go back to his Italian tub. No...you're right. Actually not so surprised about that."

"Doesn't answer the _why_, though", Gibbs perked up, tilting his head to the side as Ziva positioned herself semi-easily in the middle of the bullpen.

"This is _not_ how you go easy on yourself", Tony insisted.

"I am not a porcelain doll, Tony."

"Oh, the hell you are. You were broken like one."

"Well, I was reassembled then."

"You were supposed to stay home, sit on the couch, watch some TV, finish your book about that female writer psycho and get some sleep."

A benevolent smile settled on Ziva's face and she reached out a hand to gently touch the side of Tony's face. "You do realize how crazy that sounds, yes?"

"Yeah!", Tony cried out, nodding his head vigorously, "But here was hoping that even _you_ would put in some Clark-Kent-time after almost getting killed..._again_."

"And I love you for that...but you know where I _really_ am supposed to be", Ziva answered, softly caressing the back of his head with her fingers where the other two, Gibbs especially, wouldn't notice that ever so obvious sign of affection. Rule #12 applied - at least on the office surface and she was already and distinctly crossing the line. Gibbs, however, said nothing.

"But _all_ this", Tony threw his arms to the side so as to indicate the whole of the squadroom, "Bad stress..._really_ bad stress."

"I will only sit at my desk and go over case files and watch you work. Maybe it will jog my memory... Let me do this. I know I can remember what happened. I know it is important, what I have forgotten. It is important for our case."

"How would you know?"

"I can feel it..."

"The gut talking, huh?" A weak but conceding smile pulled at the edges of Tony's mouth and Ziva couldn't help but notice the flash of a grin on Gibbs' face as well.

"I will not overstress myself, I promise." Her expression was completely sincere. She was no fool after all. Ducky had been right, there was only so much her body could bear in one lifetime. She wasn't risking her health merely for the obstinate kicks of it, though.

"This morning you couldn't even prepare breakfast. You even told Tali-"

"Do not go there, Tony. This is different. Lives are at stake here, can you not see that? Maybe even David's and Tali's."

He could tell she was dead serious, literally. This was important to her and she really believed it to be the right choice. It was enough to convince him, really. "Okay then", he relented with a sigh.

Ziva waited a moment for Gibbs' objection but nothing came. The older agent stood a little behind Tony, right next to McGee, and kept looking on in silence.

"Thank you."

Tony pointed to the chair behind her desk. "But the moment you sit down in that chair you play porcelain doll. Is that too much to ask for?"

Ziva, hiding her grin behind an appreciative smile, quipped, "May I at least speak to you?"

"Yes, but only 'cause your voice is way more cute than Chucky's."

She was grinning for real when Tony offered his arm and guided her over to her desk. While he helped her settle in her chair, they both stole a glance at Gibbs who had finally moved to sit down as well. He didn't say a word but an impeccably faint smile made his mouth twitch in the slightest of approval. When Tony had assured himself that Ziva was comfortable enough and had supplied an array of updated case files, he took a seat himself.

* * *

McGee, from the familiar position behind his old desk, found himself grinning at the new old arrangement inside the bullpen. Ziva was immersing herself in files and digital databases - at the desk that had, for the distant stint in his life- and job-time, once been Kate Todd's and would always be Ziva's. Tony was writing out the ROI on their joint field trip - at the desk that had been his ever since McGee could remember and that he had felt but a visitor of for the past two years. Yesterday evening he had fought Tony on the desk-arrangement, insisting that he wanted to keep the desk that was so distinctly associated with the position of _Senior Field Agent_. Tony had, however, gotten Abby to re-arrange their seating, taking advantage of the forensic specialist's whim of nostalgia. Earlier that morning McGee had found the old, pre-Spain seating in the bullpen and really, he had _pretended_ to feel upset, maybe even for the kicks of rubbing Tony the wrong way. He couldn't deny he was getting nostalgic too. It really was like old times.

When Gibbs returned to the bullpen, however, he shook himself from his little part-time trance and cued the video he had just received via e-mail. "Boss, Metro just sent the video footage of the roadside camera."

"Hit it, Tim."

Gibbs strode over to the main screen, carefully positioning himself far enough to the side, so that Ziva could watch from her desk. Tony got up as well and sat on the side of his desk while McGee joined Gibbs.

"Local LEOs installed a wide-angle camera to monitor road works on the side of the street where Michaels' car hit Ziva's", McGee explained, fast-forwarding the recording to the time of Ziva's accident.

"So we might got ourselves some eyes?"

"Maybe..."

As the readout approached the time of impact, McGee slowed down the velocity of the fast-forwarding process. They could see cars passing, stopping, bucking. Ziva was squinting her eyes together, concentrating hard and yet feeling the sensation of uneasy excitement creep up her spine. She would be witness to her own accident, an accident that could have killed her. She couldn't shake off the knowledge that intermittent amnesia after traumatic incidents was a means for the human mind to safeguard itself. And here she was only nano-seconds from eliding her body's very own safety measure.

_A blue Mercedes._

"Stop!", Ziva cried out.

Instinctually, McGee's finger clicked the _pause_-button, and all three men turned to look at her. They found her eyes unfocused and her expression void and it drove worry immediately onto all of their faces. They couldn't know that memories were crashing in on her, that flashes of the past were scurrying in front of her eyes and that the insight into her own recollection was gripping her with dread and horror.

She remembered that blue Mercedes passing her by at that constriction. She remembered a woman in that car. She remembered the feeling of having forgotten something and not knowing what it was. She remembered remembering something. She remembered Tali-

"I know this woman...", she mumbled almost incoherently.

"What woman? There's no woman", Tony answered erratically, stepping up to her desk with an expression of utmost concern.

"There is... The woman- Tali... Tali was in that car."

With the utterance of the essential Ziva's eyes regained focus and they focused directly on Tony. His emeralds widened in shock and her ambers narrowed in urgency. He couldn't say a word. Tali was part of this? His daughter was part of this?

"She is", McGee exclaimed incredulously and suddenly Tony and Ziva were jerked from their bubble of parental dread.

McGee had backed up the video to the moment when the ominous blue Mercedes was passing the camera. _One second._ It had taken that camera merely one second to film two of the most appallingly crucial frames: One was the quint-optimal angle of the driver's face, a woman with ash-blonde hair. The second was a shot from the side, showing a little girl with dark brown curls on the back seat. The image onscreen was currently frozen on the latter.

Tony quickly jumped behind Ziva's desk and helped her up. Together they practically glued themselves to the plasma screen, trying to identify every visible indication that they were in fact looking at their daughter in a stranger's car. And they were.

"It's really her. It's Tali", Tony uttered.

"Question is, how did she get in there", Gibbs posed slowly, watching Ziva's expression very closely. So did McGee and Tony.

Once he had torn himself away from the screen, a feeling of purpose had settled within Tony. He wanted to find out what kind of sick plan involved his daughter in the back of a car of someone he didn't know and obviously couldn't trust. What was even more, he wanted to find that someone and tear them apart.

Ziva finally and slowly drew back. She took a deep breath to steady herself. She couldn't allow herself to fall apart in anger or doubt right now. She remembered almost falling apart in anger and doubt right before her accident, right before impact. She remembered anger, she remembered worry. She remembered thinking about Tali, only Tali.

"Fast-forward it", she requested quietly. McGee did as he was told and froze the image on the woman-driver's face.

"I know her."

"How?"

"Claire Peled. I met her in Tel Aviv...many years ago. She was the wife of my first commanding officer in Mossad", Ziva recounted, her voice drifting back to a time far away in her past.

"What's a Mossad chick doing with my daughter in the car?", Tony pressed out through gritted teeth.

"She wasn't Mossad herself. She was American... CIA, I think."

"What the-"

"Wait." A frown had settled on McGee's face by the time he stopped Tony from starting one of his more epic rants. Instead, McGee digitally closed in on the woman's face. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"That's Agent Wheeler. From cyber crime? The one who fixed Abby's computer hitch?", McGee asserted, the color in his voice draining, "She brought Tali in after your accident...but the time frame's all wrong."

The time stamp on the freeze-shot showed it to be almost forty minutes _before_ Ziva's accident - even longer before Director Vance had assigned agents to pick up David and Tali from their respective schools and Agent Wheeler had volunteered to take on Tali.

"No... Not _after_", Ziva mused, her eyes still transfixed to the screen. The three men around her could do nothing but to look on, watch and wait in dire anticipation.

Her ambers jumped from that excruciatingly familiar face to the specks of fabric peeking out from behind the door of the back seat, fabric she could distinctly remember having helped her daughter slip into mere hours before that image had been recorded. She tried to think back to that Friday six days ago. It was about Tali. Tali and that car, Tali _in_ that car. Recognizing that woman, recognizing Claire, wasn't new to her. She had recognized her before, she had recognized her the moment they had told her- Tali's preschool-

"When I arrived at Tali's school...she was already gone." Ziva's voice was quiet. Images replayed inside her head and she had taken to voiceover her memories. "She was gone... They said someone had already picked her up- They had a slip, a _signed_ slip...from _me_. They thought I knew."

Ziva's eyes regained focus, the air of purposeful excitement surrounded her as she spun around to look at each of them. McGee was still trying to get a grip on the fact that this woman, Agent Wheeler, a woman he had indistinctly flirted with, had most likely betrayed them all; played them. Could he have seen it? Had he missed it? Could he have spared the people he loved much pain if he had noticed something, anything early on?

"How'd they get it?", Gibbs asked calmly, trying to weave a thread of rationale and reason through a case that was getting more personal by the second.

Ziva's eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. She tried summoning the appropriate memory but the throbbing pain in her head was quickly becoming almost unbearable. "I- I think... I don't-"

"Ziva, focus", Tony demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her towards him. He had been eerily silent so far, lost in nothingness. He didn't know what to think, but he knew he had to act.

"I am, Tony, I _am_ focusing", she snapped and he could feel her body tensing beneath his grip.

Their eyes were burning into each other. Ziva could see the determination glistening behind his emeralds, the sense of purpose, maybe of vengeance. Tony could see the fire in her ambers, the strength of someone who had survived the insufferable - a look he hadn't seen in a very long time.

"How did she get a signed slip from you?", he repeated.

A moment's silence, and then, "I signed that report."

"What report?"

Ziva eased herself out of Tony's grasp and turned to look at McGee. "A week ago, when I was working late...with Tali. An annoying little man nagged me into signing a system report...for- for the cyber unit...", suddenly realization hit her full force, "For Agent Wheeler's unit."

Tony could tell she was working herself up now, for real. "Ziva-"

"Don't", Gibbs cut in, nodding somewhat understandingly.

"I am positive, Tony", she turned back towards him, her eyes beaming with intent, "She got to Tali before my accident. I was rushing back to NCIS when it happened- I was coming for Tali."

He relented to the serene certainty in her words. "Okay."

"Come to think of it, I never did work out why you were driving _towards_ NCIS when you had the accident and not the other way round", McGee cut in pensively.

Tony's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you spit that out just now, Probie?", he barked.

"She'd just had the accident and I was down in the lab with Abby waiting for the kids. I'm sorry I didn't stop to check the chronology of it", McGee retorted sardonically.

Tony opened his mouth in rebuttal, but Gibbs' voice cut his endeavor short. "Drop it, DiNozzo."

Unperturbed by the surrounding surges, Ziva repeated evenly, "Claire Peled...it's _Peled_. I know her as Peled...not Wheeler."

"Maybe she married?", McGee suggested.

"Maybe she divorced."

"Peled...Peled... I read this somewhere", Tony interjected suddenly, turning around and rummaging through the papers littering his desk. He grabbed a file from the bottom of the pile and flung it open. "Now, _that's_ a bingo- Look at this."

He handed the file to Ziva, pointing out a particular name on a small list of six people. McGee and Gibbs stepped behind Ziva to see for themselves what Tony had found. It was the list of former Mossad agents supposably operating in the area off-grid that Director Vance had elicited a week ago - a list McGee and Tony had been working for hours without uncovering anything useful.

The tip of Tony's finger was resting underneath the name _'Niv Peled'_. Ziva kept staring at it incessantly, her eyes growing wide. "This is him."

"This is who?"

"Niv Peled, my operation's officer when I first joined Mossad in 2000."

"So, our ripper really _is_ an Israeli Bond?", Tony cracked, "What? Are we like...listed as the go-to ward in the _Yellow Pages for Mossad Assassins_?"

Gibbs ignored Tony's idea of dealing with anxious disbelief and turned towards Ziva. "What's his deal?"

In a nervous habit she had been cultivating ever since Somalia Ziva was rubbing her hands against each other. Right now, however, she was trying desperately to block out the searing headache that had overtaken her.

"He...uh... His father was Gideon Peled. He was second in command to the Director of Mossad when I was serving in the Israeli Army", Ziva started out evenly. She realized she never really talked about her years in the army, the degree she had finished in the meantime, the decision to stay, the decision to join Mossad - in fact, her meteoric rise within.

"By then Eli was already underway to seize power and Gideon was clearly standing in his way. The same year I volunteered Gideon died of prostate cancer even though he had been declared to be in remission before. Niv believed Eli had covered up Gideon's murder as natural cause."

"Did he?"

Gibbs' question was simple, yet the truth of it was way beyond complicated. Ziva could hear Tony huff despite having her back turned towards him. For him, it was easy. He could hate Eli David and live contentedly with his hatred. She, however, could not. Eli's was, after all, the world she was coming from. To a certain degree - and she would never admit this to any one of them - she could understand Eli's reasoning, his drive, his means. Understanding him didn't mean she endorsed his measures, though.

"I certainly believe him capable of it, yes", Ziva answered sincerely, looking Gibbs straight in the eyes. She knew, out of them all, Gibbs identified with her ambivalence towards Eli the most.

"Then what? He started drawing _V'_s on walls, or what?", Tony interjected.

Ziva had subconsciously shifted backwards throughout her account, so that she was now standing directly in front of Tony. He resisted the urge to simply draw her into him but he couldn't resist caressing her uninjured arm where it was grazing his fingers. It would have been unfair to project his anger towards her past onto her. When he had chosen her, he had chosen everything about her - _every facet_. And he was true to his words.

Ziva nodded slowly. "He swore vengeance, yes. He left Mossad soon after that and went off the radar. I have not seen or heard of him since."

"Until now."

"Could he've done all that we think he might have done?"

"If you mean, whether he could have murdered two Marines with absolute precision, could have dissected one of them, could have kidnapped another man and brainwashed him into committing suicide and killing me in the process...and all that without leaving the slightest trace...", Ziva summarized, her voice vaguely flaring with emotion underneath, "Then the answer is yes. He absolutely could have."

"He did."

Ziva's eyes were stinging with the reality of things. "He was Komemiute. He was trained to do what he did." _Was she defending him?_

Gibbs cocked his head to the side. "So were you."

"So was I", Ziva repeated simply.

"_Something_ must have been off...seeing as we just identified him?", McGee spoke up, trying to guide their conversation back to their case.

"Ziva lives." Gibbs shifted his weight onto his right leg.

"I am alive to recognize Claire on that video, I am alive to make the connection to Niv."

"You were supposed to die, six-feet-under their plan", Tony stated.

He straightened up to his full height and leaned even closer, so that only inches remained between them. His words weighed heavily and the possibility of her death was made all the more imminent by them. She could have died. That in itself was nothing new. She could have died in many different ways, in many different countries and by many different hands in the past - all for some reason or other. It was different now, _she_ was different now - and Tony's close presence lifted some of that weight off.

"You were supposed to be out of the way. This is much bigger than you", Gibbs asserted, his eyebrows narrowing in consideration.

Tony scowled. "Bigger how?"

* * *

_...TO BE CONTINUED..._


	25. Near the End there's an Abyss Part II

It broke my heart to break the last chapter up into two parts, but it would have been too long and I want to put some emphasis on the character-interaction in THIS chapter. So, in a way you could claim the last one as strongly case-driven and this one right here: **relationship conjuncture**.

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Once more and ever again: **Thank you **for your thoughts and reviews! I will refrain from answering any of your questions or requests just now...let's just see where it goes from here :)

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**Last chapter…**

"Something_ must have been off...seeing as we just identified him?", McGee spoke up, trying to guide their conversation back to their case._

"_Ziva lives." Gibbs shifted his weight._

"_I am alive to recognize Claire on that video, I am alive to make the connection to Niv."_

"_You were supposed to die, six-feet-under their plan", Tony stated. _

"_You were supposed to be out of the way. This is bigger than you", Gibbs asserted, his eyebrows narrowing in consideration._

"_Bigger how?"_

* * *

**Chap 25 Near the End there's an Abyss - Part II**

_Thursday, November 21__st__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Gibbs didn't answer. Instead, that look of determined purpose settled in his eyes. He quickly swayed to the side and maneuvered himself around Ziva so as to storm off into the direction of the elevator. They knew that move. Tony knew that move, better than anyone. And he certainly wouldn't have it. Gibbs had barely made it out of the bullpen in one flash, Tony was fast on his tracks.

"Wait!", Tony called out, jogging up to him, "Don't give us that twinkle-twinkle-little-tinker BS. _How_ is this bigger?"

Gibbs turned around slowly, a scowl setting his forehead in wrinkles. "Ziva's accident was only part of a bigger plan. We agree on that one?"

"You think that Niv guy and his ex-wife from hell aren't the only ones."

"There's more to it."

"Why kill those Marines if all they ultimately wanted to do was kill Ziva", McGee affirmed from behind them.

"It's about this _whole_ show-case."

"You think it's about _all_ of us", Tony realized, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Gibbs.

Gibbs nodded curtly. "At least some of us. More than just Ziva."

"Somebody's got it in for us?"

"It's personal, all of this."

This very new and very unsettling vantage point took its time to sink into Tony's system, but when it did, his eyes started glaring with the same kind of determined purpose he had witnessed on Gibbs a few minutes ago.

"Then we better-"

Gibbs cut him off, "_You_ better get Ziva home."

There was a sincere tinge of kindness in his voice that immediately related to the sheer empathetic logic of it. "But what about you, I mean-"

A miniature smile lifted the edges of Gibbs' mouth for a moment before he turned on his heel and strode off on his initial path towards the elevator. "Don't worry about me, Tony. We never let any of those bastards get away, and I'd be damned if we started now."

Tony scoffed, somewhat good-naturedly. He was part of this team again, he wasn't the boss of an entire unit. He could yield some of the responsibility while he could take up more where he seemed to be needed more: at home, with his family, with Ziva. Before long his entire demeanor had conceded to the present reality of it all.

"Campfire?", he asked rhetorically, watching Gibbs step into the elevator.

"Zero nine hundred. Tell Ziva to be on time for once", Gibbs answered before the doors closed on his vague smile.

Before Tony could dwell too much on what had just happened, he could hear Ziva's voice, frail and small, calling out his name. "Tony..."

He turned around just in time to see McGee lunge forward and grab her arm before she buckled over in the middle of the bullpen. Tony immediately leapt over and pulled out a chair McGee then carefully eased her into. Her face was ashen and in her eyes Tony could see that she was in pain.

He crouched down in front of her. "Honey... What's wrong?", he asked, searching for her reaction beneath her fallen curls, "Ziva?"

"I don't know... I just felt light-headed for a second", she answered quietly, looking down into his worried eyes, "It is okay now."

"Ziva, you're in pain. I can see it."

"I am not-"

"Tim, go and get Jimmy, he-"

"No, there really is no need", Ziva reassured, stopping McGee before he could even nod his head and sprint down to the morgue.

"Then we'll get you to the hospital."

"No hospital, Tony. I just- Let's just go home, alright?"

"If you want, I can get Abby. She's been working on the Riley case all day, she-"

"No, let's not worry her without a reason-"

"Ziva, you almost keeled over", Tony implored her.

"Just home...please? I just want to go home to the kids. No doctors, no hospitals, no worrying. Just a quiet evening with the kids", Ziva almost pleaded.

He could see she wasn't feeling well - and that was an understatement any way you turned it. He knew the hospital or a check-up would have been the more rational choice, but the look in her eyes was more than his rationality could take.

"A quiet evening with _our_ kids?", he quipped and a faint smile flashed across her face.

* * *

There were but a few moments in their lives together that Ziva had actually admitted to feeling pain and Tony knew that she was virtually incapable of admitting it. That's why he had sharpened his radar for detecting it anyway. He could read her like an un-officialized screenplay to his living reality. Maybe, over the years, she would have given up hiding her pain at some point or another, but they had easily fallen into this rhythm of not changing too much about each other and rather living with who they were, respectively.

When they went out into the parking lot at the Navy Yard that day, however, things were different. Ziva was leaning heavily onto Tony. It scared him. The last time she had clung to him like that had been throughout that excruciating hour of fighting their way through the maze of cells and corridors in Saleem's little shop of horrors. Her mind had been near dead back then, as had been her body. Tony feared nothing more than for Ziva having to go through so much pain again. Until a day ago he hadn't even known just how much pain she had been through. But this was different, still. _Right?_

McGee had come along, carrying their bags and helping Tony ease Ziva into the passenger seat before bidding his sympathetic goodbye to meet up with Abby back inside. Now they were trudging along the streets at a speed well below the limit in the afternoon traffic. Ziva was leaning her head against the cool glass of the window with her eyes closed against the oncoming lights. Tony kept looking at her incessantly.

"Tony, please stop looking at me all the time", she requested suddenly and quietly, her eyes still tightly shut.

He wanted to justify his concern but something more pending crossed his temporal lobe before that. "How do you do that?"

"You are tingles", she answered matter-of-factly.

"I'm what?"

"Others are chills or stings. _You..._are tingles."

A soft smile made it to his lips. Then he grew serious again. "You sure you don't wanna go to the hospital?"

She moved her head a little to the side. "Yes, no hospitals anymore. Just home."

"Okay", he conceded, drawing out those two syllables in a final statement before silence settled between them for a while.

Suddenly, words tumbled out of his mouth. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know."

He could see the hint of a smile on her face in the corner of his eye, even though his confession might as well have sounded like the justification of concern he didn't want it to be. "I thought I made myself clear this morning", he continued, sounding somewhat irritated.

"You did", Ziva retorted evenly but she knew exactly that this conversation would not end there, "What are you getting at, Tony?"

"It's bothering you", he stated simply, stopping in front of a red light.

"What is?"

"That you told me. It's bothering you that I might be bothered by what you told me about Somalia."

"I am not-", she started but her words suddenly hung silently from her gaping mouth. She finally opened her eyes and turned to look at him, scowling, "How do _you_ do it?"

He grinned sheepishly. "You're rosebud."

"I am what?" She was absolutely positive it had to be one of his more meaningful movie references but she couldn't quite place it.

"Rosebud", he clarified matter-of-factly, "The single most important moment."

She couldn't help but smile at the ease of affection he so often performed with no effort at all. Still, there were more pending issues weighing onto the ease of her mind. If it hadn't been for the agonizing pain in her head, she would have shaken it to emphasize how little she could believe into her own reality sometimes.

"How can you forgive me something I could almost not forgive myself?", she blurted out.

"_Because_...I love you", he answered immediately, an incredulous laugh ringing through, "I love who you are. And who you are, that's Somalia too. I don't love you in bits and pieces, I love you as a whole. Would you-"

"You do realize what all this means, yes? That we cannot have any more children, that-"

"I know, Ziva. I figured as much", Tony nodded, his voice completely even, "No potential DiNozzo-offspring could ever be worth the risk of losing you. We have two awesome kids, I have you. There's no more. So, this once, would you…_just_ believe me?"

"I do", she affirmed quickly, knowing it too, "I am... I am being stupid." She placed her head back against the glass, watching the traffic rush by without actually watching it.

"I don't-"

"Please, Tony, I just want to go home. No more trying to make sense of the bedlam in my head", she almost whispered, "I am trying to save up enough energy to make it to the medicine cabinet without looking the way I am feeling right now."

"You _know_…you don't need to do that."

"Yes, I do", she argued determinedly, "The kids do not need to see me like this."

"Ziva, they know you were hurt. They understand-"

"Tony... They are six and three years old. They may seem to understand, but their souls cannot. I have traumatized them enough already, they do not need to see me faint in the middle of the living room."

He scoffed. "Come on, Ziva. Give yourself a break, will ya? You didn't _traumatize_ them."

"I did not? I did not rip their mother from their lives? I did not force them to fathom the possibility of _losing_ their mother?"

"No, ya didn't", Tony cried out tersely, "That sick Israeli bastard did."

An exasperated grunt ripped through her throat. "That sick Israeli bastard is part of my past, a _past_ that has caught up with me now."

"But that's _not_ your fault."

"How can it not be, Tony?"

"Aren't you the one who told me she couldn't change her past no matter what?"

"I am _also_ the one who told you that I could live with it as long as it did not affect our kids."

"They're _kids_, Ziva. They're resilient." A good-natured smile had settled on his face. It calmed her.

"They should not _have_ to be", she sighed.

"It's part of us."

"But it should not be a part of _them_."

He jerked his head back as he turned the familiar corner into West Clark Street. "Are we some kind of federal herpes now?", he deadpanned.

After a heartbeat of silence, she took a handful of what this really was about and threw it out into the bordered open of her car. "I resent my father for a lot of things, but most of all I resent him for bringing me into his world, subjecting me to its violence and…its…its ephemerality", she confessed sincerely, "Ima was the one who shielded us from it. Abba was the one who caused it."

Tony stole a quick glance at her while they waited for the automated barrier to open. Ziva looked worn, a little too tired to fight herself any longer. "You never talk about her", he assessed softly.

"Don't… You know it hurts."

He nodded; _oh, he knew_. Sometimes he even thought that having lost both of their mothers so soon, too early in life was part of the destiny that made them fit together. It made talking without saying anything so much easier sometimes. He killed the engine and turned in his seat, searching her eyes with his.

"Don't punish yourself for your own past, Ziva... You already punished yourself enough." To his surprise she nodded her head, if vaguely. He reached over and put his hand gently on the side of her face, inadvertedly catching a brief tear that sprung from her eyes. "You're the best mother our kids could ever wish for. They missed you so much..."

She smiled, if vaguely.

"Your past may be more violent than that of other moms…but unlike other moms you're a deadly weapon in itself and you will stop at nothing to protect them."

Ziva took a hold of his hand and guided it to her lips, kissing it. "You know that I love you, yes?"

Tony smiled; a real smile.

* * *

**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

Four people were standing in a semi-circle in the middle of the warehouse they had spent so much time in for the past two years. The woman seemed giddily nervous and the oldest of them gruffly compliant. The green-eyed man started buttoning his black coat, the plan he had been replaying like a visual mantra in his head for days driving a satisfied smile onto his face. He looked at each one of them.

"Everything's ready for the face-off. They'll find the backup soon", he asserted with purposeful aura.

The woman nodded obediently, the older man puffed affirmative smoke through the cracks of his teeth.

"Niv?"

His green eyes settled on the youngest of the group who was standing a little to the side, his blue eyes clouded by his unfocused mind and his dark hair dimmed by the haziness of the room. He looked up.

"Yes?"

"You ready to go through?"

Niv's blue eyes regained focus. "Absolutely."

"Good", the man's green eyes jumped greedily in their sockets, "You can almost hear Morricone blowing his whistle, can't you?"

* * *

**94 Hulland Drive**** - Apartment 2**

"You know, I get the whole strict military upbringing compensation thing…I really do, Tim. But I'm not going to raise our daughter in the middle of _Barbie's Bimbo Parlor_", Abby exclaimed, her eyebrows raised in deadly-intent seriousness.

"I actually think it's bad luck to bicker about the color we're going to paint her room in before our application's even through", McGee countered matter-of-factly.

He weathered her glare and jerked his head to the side before he stepped out of the nursery that had been left plain white ever since they had moved into the new apartment. Abby, however, was right behind him. He hadn't accounted for her exponentially high tempo given the lack of plateau boots on her bare feet.

"Don't you run away from my point."

"I'm not", he declared and kept going without turning around, "I'm not _running_ from your point. I'm _walking_…_briskly_…away from your craziness."

"How is not wanting a future _Ms. Beauty Pageant_ crazy in the mommy-book?"

When he finally stopped halfway through the living room, Abby almost crashed into him. He turned around, the look in his eyes soft and imminent. "Maybe not in the mommy-book, but in the Abby-book it's borderline obsessive."

"Is not." She pouted.

"Well, have it your way then", he conceded with vocal decrescendo, yet a slight smirk erupted on his face, "But _I'm_ not raising her in the middle of a _Dr. Frank-N-Furter-Fantasy_."

Abby drew in a sharp breath, mock-appalled. "I never said I wanted that."

"But you never denied it either."

"I just don't want to put her in the girly straightjacket before she can even say a word", Abby clarified, picking up his slack smile, "I know you have that little daddy's-girl-fantasy of yours and it's long overdue-"

McGee huffed knowingly. "I'm not the only one here."

"I know", she stated bluntly, her eyes - in balance - grew serious again, "But there are principles…principles we vowed we'd stick to."

"So…eggshell it is then."

"Cadmin yellow."

"Apricot."

"Aureolin."

McGee opened his mouth, the upcoming words waiting their turn on his lips. His eyes were smiling with the quintessential argument. "Pastel yellow...with _sun_glow", he suggested slowly.

"Sold." Abby cocked her head to the side with a satisfied smile.

* * *

**West Clark Street**** - Apartment 7**

Tali and David were completely immersed into the movie they had started on about an hour ago. Tony was sitting on the floor with David beside him. A while ago he had successfully if subtly shifted Tali to the other side of the couch since the little girl had been dangerously close to Ziva's torso. Ziva had been asleep for good half an hour already. He was glad she was asleep, glad she was finally allowing herself to rest. She needed it. Earlier he had entered the apartment ahead of her, making sure the kids were upstairs, so that Ziva could raid the medicine cabinet in the meantime. After thanking Sarah a thousand times, they had soon plugged in a movie and Ziva had even sooner dosed off into well-warranted dreamland.

While he watched the kids laugh and giggle at the jokes he, for some reason, didn't really seem to get that night, Tony couldn't help but replay some odd instances. In all their stress and in all her pain, they had overlooked a seemingly miniscule detail: Just that morning Ziva had promised two hopeful kids that she would not go away, that she would be right there and that they would see her again in just a little while. In fact, however, Ziva had been at NCIS by the time the kids had come home and it had been Sarah, who had picked them up and spent the afternoon with them. Tony doubted Ziva had remembered her promise; or else she would have been more distraught at having broken it.

Tali had failed to remember as well, it seemed. David had not. It had been that little moment of hesitation before David had budged to welcome Ziva. A small moment of hesitation, and in that moment Tony had realized something more. He had realized, once again, just how far and unconditional Ziva's commitment and devotion to her job could go. This kind of commitment for that which she believed in, that which she believed to be right and just, Tony had always had a hard time grasping.

It was a different mindset, a mindset that had been inculcated in her ever since. For a greater good - the greater good of, maybe, keeping her family protected from past and present threats - she was willing to go to any known length, even to the margins of her own strength. What she believed in, what she thought indispensable was more important. In that she wasn't far from her own father's reasoning. It were those moments, Tony realized, that he could understand why she couldn't just hate Eli. It was because she could relate - on a different scale, under different circumstances. But at the end of the day: She could relate.

When it came to promises to the kids, Ziva was even more fiercely committed. Today she had broken a promise within the hassle of solving the case and the pain of its aftermath. Tony knew she shouldn't have felt bad, even if she _had_ noticed. He knew she would have, no matter what. It was understandable, though. Sometimes he didn't. Sometimes he did.

* * *

**71****4 Wesley Lane**

The moment Gibbs returned home, he locked his SIG safely away in a strongbox, tossed his clothes into the hamper and put on the shirt he had been wearing around his home for the past two days. His next move led him to the basement, where he started planing away at an array of squared lumber. He was starting on a new boat, a new project. The last one he had finished a little over a month ago and gotten out of his basement just in time to clean up before Abby had taken over the make-over of his silent sanctuary for Tali's birthday party.

A smile sprang to the outskirts of his mouth when he thought about the little girl holding tightly onto Ziva's hand as they had crept down the stairs step by step to uncover her whole family waiting with banners and presents and hats. He smiled even a little bit more at the memory of Tali letting go of Ziva at the foot of the stairs and sprinting towards him with that contagiously enthusiastic grin to get a hat placed on top of her head as well. He slammed the planer onto the workbench and retrieved his chisel from the other side of the room. He couldn't believe that their case had endangered her.

What's more, whoever was behind this had not only put Tali in danger, they had almost killed Ziva too. Just how close they had come to losing her - _again_. And he couldn't lose anymore, not another one. No, he knew exactly that Ziva wasn't his daughter. Kelly was and always would be his only daughter, the only daughter he had ever had - and lost. Ziva had a father, a father she had somewhat made peace with. And, by God, Ziva could handle herself and her life. She didn't need a father just for its own sake rather than for the one she had to accept her. If he despised Eli for one thing, it was for making Ziva feel as though she had failed him, as though she even could.

Gibbs couldn't deny, however, that out of the only family he now knew, Ziva and he were the most alike. Sure, Tony had learned a lot over the years and so had McGee, but Ziva was similar to him on the whole. He had faith in her, trusted her, accepted her and understood her. That's why he was what he was to her: family, as much on the vertical as on the horizontal. He was filling a gap she had known and craved to be filled almost all her life - even though she would have never admitted that.

And once again he had almost lost her. _They _had almost lost her. Those children he loved so much would have lost their mother. How could this case have come that far? They had found a body as they always did some way or another, but those body parts had set off every ventral alarm bell in his body. It had smelled like a plot from the very beginning and yet they hadn't figured it out. They had allowed themselves to be played. _He_ had allowed himself to be played by whomever was behind all this.

Ziva's accident had been the break-even point. Ziva surviving, once again, had been the break-even point. Not only for the case, for all of them. They just…could have saved so much time if they had looked into the accident earlier, if they had given a damn about the guy who had hit her. They had neglected the accident because Ziva had been more important - _single most_ important. They had passed him over, Chad Michaels, a guy who shouldn't have died just because someone had elected him murder weapon. They had-

Gibbs' eyes went wide, the blue in them suddenly gleaming purposefully through the dimly lit basement. _They had neglected him, damn it!_ He jerked his head to the side. He lunged for his cell and hit the familiar digit for speed dial. A lightly amused voice answered.

"McGee", Gibbs declared unceremoniously, "Got a job for you."

* * *

**_...TO BE CONTINUED..._**

_Leave a thought?_


	26. Who we invited to dinner

**IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE END, **people! I'm very sorry this update took so long, but Christmas and New Year's always keep me far from my laptop. Concerning the story-structure the upcoming wrap-up is a little trickier than what I did before and it's a multi-act feat, so expect to approach the big finale piece by piece ;)

Thanks again for your thoughts and reviews - maybe we'll crack 200 reviews before this story comes to an end!

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**ChEmMiE: **Yes, well...ephemerality is about half the charm of it, isn't it? ;)

**Isabel:** A sincere THANK YOU for your review. I'm Austrian, so no apologies necessary - your English is really good and who am _I_, butchering the English language for serial purposes, to look down upon your abilities? ;) I'm really happy you enjoyed the story so much thus far and I really think that reading it in one sitting might even enhance one's sense of continuity and open one's eyes for details that little bit more. Glad to entertain you - liebe Grüße!

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**Gradual Summit - ACT I  
**_or: Who we invited to dinner_

_Friday, November 22__nd__ 2018_

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Tony was watching the digits' value rise above the door of the elevator, but when he noticed Ziva smiling at him in the corner of his eye he turned to look at her. He knew that smile, it was a knowing smirk-smile-combo.

"What?", he asked with a laugh.

"Nothing", she answered innocently, pursing her lips, "You are still grinning."

"I am?" Now he could feel it too. He really was still grinning.

"Uh-huh."

"Well, what can I say? My daughter, the daughter who ran from me screaming bloody murder just about a week ago, might I add...kissed me goodbye."

"I know...", Ziva returned softly.

"And I like to think it wasn't just because we let her sleep in and stay home with you two more hours." He cocked his head to the side and concentrated back on the digits above the door.

"It was not."

Ziva watched his grin rise to its initial grandeur. It had taken both of them by surprise. Tony had received a late-night call from Gibbs the day before, asking him to come in earlier. So, Tony had taken David to school on his way to work that morning. But they had unanimously decided to give Tali a little mommy-time before Tony had returned to get Ziva, dropping Tali off at preschool along the way. Because Ziva still had trouble climbing in and out of cars, Tony had escorted the little girl up to the gates. Still, Ziva had had a perfectly good view of Tony crouching down for the small hug he had received the last two days. This time, however, Tali had also placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek before dashing off into the building. And for once, Tony DiNozzo had been left speechless. And for once, Ziva David had found it difficult to fight a tear in her eye. Tali hadn't noticed the monumentality of her actions. _That's_ what had taken them by surprise: the nonchalance of it all. Tony had been unable to stop grinning ever since.

Just when the elevator was passing the last floor beneath the squadroom, Tony and Ziva simultaneously turned towards each other in a routine move and kissed. With the ding of the opening doors they broke apart. Appearance-wise they were now partners at work and not lovers. They walked into the bullpen together to find Abby leaning onto McGee's desk.

"Hey there, lovebirds!", Abby called out, straightening up and beaming at them in all her excited glory.

"Right back at ya", Tony countered.

"Looks like a couple jam session initiated by the big-a-doo himself."

"What? He ordered you up into the sunlight too?"

"_Asked nicely_...not ordered, Tony. But yeah, he did. He and Director Vance cleared an external specialist for my work on the Riley case and specifically told me to help out up here", Abby clarified matter-of-factly.

"Here? Like..._here_?" Tony scrunched up his forehead.

"What about _'here'_ don't you get?"

"Let it go, Abby", Ziva cut in benevolently, "He watched a _Twilight_-marathon last night after the kids had gone to bed."

"I thought you were sleeping", Tony retorted disbelievingly.

Ziva smirked. "I know."

Tony looked appalled for a moment. Then he sighed, "Moving on..."

Ziva laughed. "Never."

Tony tried to ignore Ziva's and Abby's respective smirks and turned towards McGee, who was presently immersed in his computer work. "While you ladies prepped, McRobin here and I were working our butts off-"

"Or..._bats_", Abby chuckled.

"Flat", Tony retorted.

Just when Tony opened his mouth to say something more, McGee cut him off, "Tali's school just released the video footage, guys."

He transmitted the video sequence to the plasma screen in the middle of the bullpen, took the remote and a stand in front of it. Immediately, all of them felt the returned graveness of their current situation - in case and life. They gathered around him and McGee started the recording of the preschool's front gates. First it showed Agent Wheeler entering the school. McGee indicated the time stamp: Around that same time Ziva had left the Navy Yard on Friday a week ago. A few fast-forwarded minutes later they watched Agent Wheeler exiting the school, this time holding Tali's hand - what was even more, though: still _prior to_ Ziva's accident.

Ziva cringed inwardly when she noticed Tali's free hand clasped nervously around the little girl's mouth. She could only imagine how scared the little girl must have been. Tony and she had decided to put a close on their case first and get their personal lives in order again before they would cautiously start working the kids through what had happened. They wanted to ease them into a returned or somewhat newfound routine before helping them deal with what had happened. They wanted to come to terms with it themselves, really - and they still lacked a comprehensive picture.

"I guess that verifies the time frame", Tony asserted.

"According to the logs, Wheeler was standby-connected to the office that day and was officially working from home. And as the technical maintenance appointee she could download all kinds of data...like ID monitoring from the gates without drawing anybody's attention", McGee clarified, drawing up a record of IP-addresses and hash-codes, thus positively identifying the trace back to Agent Wheeler's computer. The time she had evidently logged off coincided roughly with the time she had entered Tali's school.

"I took the liberty of scaring the hell outta the guy who had you sign that report", Tony cut in, looking at Ziva, "But he was only carrying out Wheeler's orders. You really were signing a system report. Turns out, Agent Wheeler's the female version of McGee."

Abby cleared her throat. "You mean other than that she's a conniving, deceiving bi-"

"Yeah, other than that", Tony cut her off, receiving a scowl, "Apparently, the clipboard you wrote on was...like...chip-coded or- McGee?"

McGee turned towards them, his focus more on Ziva than on Abby, though. "It memorized your signature. It's actually a really simple trick. The system of digitizing input goes way back in the history of smart devices-", upon Ziva's frown, he started making his point, "Basically, the clipboard served as the digitizing tablet that transformed your handwritten signature into a memorisable algorithm and implanted the data on an integrated memory chip she could easily synchronize with her computer. And unlike ten years ago she didn't need to bother with an applicable digitizer. It works just fine with any given pen."

"Yeah, and that way not even those fancy graphologic scanners can detect a difference, 'cause it's essentially _your_ signature", Abby supplied.

"And now? Can she access our progress with the case? Does she know-"

"That's what she did up until now, yes", McGee explained, "But I blocked our files with the highest possible clearance that only Vance himself can authorize. We're clear."

"She's down in her bunker and doesn't know what's coming for her", Tony declared purposefully, "We're just waiting for a judge to wake up and sign off on the warrant. Then that cyber-forger-woman is Tony-fodder-"

"Only if nobody's chewin' you up first, DiNozzo", Gibbs cautioned upon breezing into the bullpen and handing Tony the warrant they had been waiting for since seven o'clock in the morning.

"Me…the food?"

"Negligence", Gibbs declared.

Tony looked at him strangely, the wheels in his mind turning. "I guess that's supposed to set off some kind of memory...?"

"There's only one bastard with a grudge out there who would build an entire plot around knowing we'd pass over the obvious."

Abby, Ziva and McGee followed their conversation with inquisitive interest and alternating gazes.

Gibbs straightened up and tossed a file onto McGee's desk, flinging it open and stepping back so that they could each take a look at the face gleaming back at them: The man on the picture seemed worn, but his blazing green eyes almost lunged from the glossy paper. His blonde-brownish hair was tousled, his considerably darker eyebrows only highlighting the color of his eyes.

"Patrick Rikers", Gibbs explicated, "His appeal went through last year. His time was reduced to twenty years, good conduct. Anniversary was January."

"Rikers has been on the loose since January and nobody notified us- I mean _you_?", Tony blurted out, clearly dumbfounded by the news.

"Note probably got lost in the mail."

"Wheeler."

"But that's still not it."

"What- We have that Niv guy who's been after Ziva and now Rikers. Who else you think is out there?"

"There're more", Gibbs ascertained definitely, "And we get them because we investigated the crash. Metro did a routine sweep and didn't keep looking. We didn't look either…at _first_. They counted on that."

"Jeez…who is Patrick Rikers and what did you two do to him to piss him off like that?", Abby exclaimed suddenly, voicing the feeling of investigative loss that had been accumulating between her, Ziva and McGee.

"Gibbs was the case agent", Ziva supplied with a swift glance back at the file.

"And the reason he spent the last twenty years in prison."

"That explains the Chief", Abby nodded, then turned to look at Tony, "What about the Chieflet, though?"

Tony looked at her for a moment. Even though it had been so many years, he still remembered that case clear as Ducky's sterling silver. After all, it was the story of how he'd come to be at NCIS, how he'd met Gibbs - and in consecution everything and everyone he now loved as his family.

"In 1998 I was still at Baltimore PD. I drew the short end of the left-over cannoli and took on the case of a homeless guy. It looked like an open'n'shut case: late night shooting, close range, no witnesses, routine stuff, you know? Among the sixteen cases I was already working, this one was supposed to be the one I looked into just to look into it, right?"

Tony could hear Gibbs' slight huff and a faint smile formed on his face.

"Problem was, I couldn't. I couldn't just pass over that guy just because nobody seemed to care that he was dead", Tony continued sincerely, "Especially since the faded stamp on the back of his hand placed him in some kind of club not too long before that, which is kinda odd for your local homeless guy. Eventually, I found out he wasn't homeless at all, but Navy Petty Officer Philip Hamm.

"So, NCIS was notified and I was taken off the case…even _though_ I wanted to stay on, but-", Tony scoffed and shook his head, "-turns out the…uh…_woman_ chief of my department and I were in kind of a bad place…so to speak."

Ziva knew that look Tony gave her: It was the _"frat boy"_-look, the one that didn't obscure his past with women but still transmitted the declaration of having put those days behind him. She knew that look and she knew the message of that look to be entirely true. She trusted him. That didn't mean, however, that she didn't find that look amusingly cute. A small smile sprang to her face.

"Off duty he kept investigating the murder", Gibbs put in.

"Meh…I might have found out some of the snarkier details in a poker game with a couple of Hamm's Northfork buddies", Tony waved off in mock-humidity.

"Langer's head was already with the FBI. So, when he turned up on my porch and started rambling about his theories and what he'd found-"

"He immediately fell for the spark of genius…"

Gibbs' smirk was true to the expression in his eyes.

"Rikers killed Hamm, a childhood friend of his, because he thought he deserved it. Years back Hamm and he had fallen for the same girl, but Hamm walked away with her. Then she was killed in a robbery while Hamm was serving on a destroyer in the Middle East. And Rikers, who had kept tabs on her all those years, took that kinda personally."

"He avenged her death by killing her husband even though he could not have done anything to prevent her death?", Ziva summarized, her eyebrows narrowed incredulously.

"Yeah, pretty much."

"That's one weird logic right there…", Abby mused.

"In Rikers' head it made total sense. Hamm neglected his wife's safety, so Rikers arranged for authorities to neglect Hamm."

"Clearly, though, that couldn't have worked, right? Even if Tony had followed…_protocol_", McGee cut in, screwing his forehead up in wrinkles, "Hamm would have made it into the MP-databases and you'd have-"

"That's not how it worked back then, Pre-Probie", Tony interjected, shaking his head adamantly, "Rikers set it up so Hamm wouldn't have been reported missing for weeks. And by then I would've forgotten about the dead homeless guy. There just weren't enough resources to go through cold cases every time somebody reported anybody missing."

"And Rikers knew that. He'd fallen through the cracks of the system as a kid. He knew it happened."

"But you got him anyway."

"Sure…we got him."

"But the judge took pity on his story and sentenced him to life. Looks like his life's been shorter than we'd hoped for, though", Tony deadpanned.

"Looks like he's set on cutting yours even shorter, Tony", McGee countered.

"Find the connection", Gibbs demanded suddenly, "He's not alone."

"Niv, Wheeler-"

"_They_ are not alone."

Ziva (with Tony's help), McGee and Tony immediately returned to their desks and started working their way through Patrick Rikers' files and every link they could possible procure to either one of themselves. Meanwhile - in a not-so-subtle gesture - Gibbs gently shoved Abby towards his own desk, eased her into his chair and placed two CafPows in front of her. On his way out of the bullpen he stopped over at Ziva's desk. She was sitting oddly still in her chair, obviously trying not to move against the pain still unfurling regularly in her chest.

"Hey", he caught her eyes with the caring timbre in his voice, "You okay?"

"I am fine, Gibbs", she reassured him with a smile.

Gibbs turned towards Tony on his stroll upstairs. "You take her home the moment she tells you not to."

"Gladly, boss", Tony answered at once, fending off Ziva's distal scowl with his clear sense of determination.

* * *

Sifting through Rikers' past turned out to be a trip into a deeply troubled life. Patrick Rikers had been born an orphan and handed down from orphanage to orphanage, from abusing foster parents to abusing foster parents all his life. At the age of sixteen he had run away. He had asked the love of his life since childhood to accompany him but, naturally, she had refused. He had run away anyway and she had eventually married Philip Hamm - his best and only friend of that time. Rikers had obviously kept tabs on Hamm and his wife, whose murder ultimately led him to murder.

"Oh my God", McGee exclaimed suddenly.

All three surrounding pairs of eyes were immediately on him.

"I think I got something", McGee explained, his voice unusually thin.

He got up and put an Army personnel file on the plasma screen. The picture showed a man with a dark brown army haircut and graying temples. Compared to Rikers' his eyes were dull, and he seemed tall and muscular even though he was good fifteen years older. Tony and Abby got up and stepped closer, making it a point to take a stand far enough to the side so that Ziva had a good view from her position behind her desk.

"Theodore Stills", Tony read out loud, his eyebrows knitted together in consideration, "Never heard of him."

"Former Marine Sniper and RDC at Alameda Naval Base, dishonorable discharge in 1999 after a conviction for second degree murder. Spent fifteen years in prison, ten of which in Maryland State, where he was cell mates with-"

McGee flicked his finger and pulled up a log and a file from Maryland State Prison showing the picture of a man with palpably green eyes - the man they had all been looking at in various transformations for the past couple of hours. "Patrick Rikers", Ziva filled in, her voice divulging a sense of disbelief.

"How do we know that Stills guy again, Tim?", Tony asked.

The younger agent turned around, trying to face each one of them at the same time. His mouth opened, but no sound erupted. He closed it again and repeated the process.

"Wait", Abby put in, realization edging onto her face, "Alameda Naval Base in _'99_? That's when your dad was stationed there, Tim."

"So, Post-Probie is part of the privy plot as well, eh?", Tony cracked, the tone in his voice sounding more gloom than gloating, though.

"Tim…", Abby started, putting a hand on his arm.

"Stills wasn't the kind of guy you would call kids-friendly, okay? My sister- _Sarah_…she… He bothered her, on more than one occasion", McGee started evasively, locking his eyes with Abby's, "In _'99_ I had just finished my degree at MIT and when I heard he'd made another pass at Sarah, I- I swear, I just went there to talk to him… But when I got to his office, I overheard a conversation. It seemed like some guy named Thorne was paying Stills for a hit on Captain Ryan Linley."

"I heard of that one", Tony cut in, his forehead set in wrinkles, "NCIS started investigating all of a sudden, even though authorities and the media had ruled Linley's shooting a paramilitary strike during his holiday in Colombia."

"Yeah, well… I was _'suddenly'_", McGee deadpanned.

"You trooped up the evidence?"

"Computers didn't have the kind of security perimeters they have today. I hacked the gate logs at Alameda and found Thorne's name, once before Linley's shooting and once on said night. In the two weeks, during which Linley was killed, Stills had requested leave to visit his mother in a hospital in Maryland. According to their logs he never once showed up, though."

"Have it in your blood, haven't you?", Tony stated proudly, patting McGee's back lightly.

A small smile settled on McGee's face. "NCIS couldn't find more than that, but I served as undisclosed witness and Stills went to prison for it. As it turned out, though, the Hill wasn't all innocent and clean regarding Linley's murder, so he walked away with fifteen years max."

"It seems you were not as undisclosed as you thought you were, McGee", Ziva asserted from across the bullpen.

"Don't tell me you weren't alerted when he was released?"

"I wasn't. My dad was", McGee answered definitely, "But that was _four_ years ago. I didn't think much of it."

"Somebody's been holding onto their grudge."

"_You_ don't say, Tony."

Tony smirked. "That takes Rule Number 10 to a whole new level, doesn't it?"

"Guys, do we even have anything substantial that would back the theory of Stills teaming up with Rikers and Niv to…_get_ us?", Ziva put in questioningly.

"We have, actually", McGee answered, pulling up Stills' CV with a swift remote-click, "Stills' father's name was Masterson. Apparently, Stills lived with his mother and took on her maiden name. And Henry Masterson obtained honorary status at UDC along with a signet ring in 1950."

"Circumstantial", Tony cautioned, leveling the widened eyes in Abby's and Ziva's face.

"Circumstantial is the best we can do with this case, Tony."

"It's better than nothing."

"And _nothing_…we've had for three frickin' weeks."

"_Actually_, my fellow freaker-ees", Tony tilted his head to the side, "This thing's kinda like domino. And by that I don't mean the movie but the _game_."

"Domino?"

"Domino."

"Care to elaborate on that thought?"

"Easy, McDoubt. Chain's broken if we don't find a fit, a fit for our link, a _link-fit_ so to say", Tony quasi-clarified with a knowing smile, "Rikers links to Stills, so Stills is a possible fit. But we still don't know how they fit with the Israeli Bond, who in turn links to Wheeler, so they're a fit too - partners in crime actually…_literally_, I mean. We gotta fit our links… Know what I mean?"

McGee's forehead was creased in deep wrinkles, his eyes speaking of the disbelief that had edged its way onto Abby's face as well. Before either of the pair could say anything, however, a sharp intake of breath coming from Ziva's desk captured all of their attention.

"What?", they called out in unison, turning around to look at her.

With obvious effort, Ziva lifted herself up from the chair. "That", she growled, pointing towards a picture she had just cued for the plasma, "David's class teacher: Janet Miller."

"And how-"

"I just checked the photos of staff and inmates at Maryland State Prison from 1998 to 2004. She was a lab assistant there, conducting research with inmates for a local Research Center."

"Wai- What? David's teacher was working human lab rats before teaching six-year-olds?", Tony exclaimed, "Not that far off…if you think about it."

In different circumstances a smile might have erupted on Ziva's face at his comment, but nothing came. Instead, she felt fury boil within her. Now, even David had been sucked into this case and she had broken every promise she had ever made to herself and the way she had sworn to protect her children - the way her mother had tried to protect her. She knew that Tony must have felt the same way, infuriated, but he dealt with it differently.

"Patrick Rikers was part of the program. They must have had contact on a regular basis."

"This woman's name isn't Janet Miller", Abby declared suddenly, catching everyone's attention, "That's Jane Mill. We went to Louisiana State together. We were both criminology majors."

"No, it's Janet Miller…from Washington. There's no record of a Jane Mill whatsoever", McGee interjected, having taken a seat behind his computer again.

"I _know_ that face, Tim. It's her."

"Wouldn't be the first time somebody's one-upping your skills, McGee", Tony asserted calmly, "Could have been Wheeler again."

"If she's as good as we think she is and if she used the kind of clearance we know she has, Mill's could really be a watertight burn identity", McGee conceded, his fingers flying across the keyboard in search for digital traces, "And she is _not_ one-upping me, Tony. She's more than two steps ahead, is all."

"Two steps _up_, Mc-"

"Tony", Ziva cut in forcefully, coming up beside him. He looked at her semi-apologetically and she shook her head, somewhat good-naturedly.

"Any reason this Jane Mill woman might have it in for you, Abs?", Tony questioned sincerely, returning to the urgency that was their case.

Still, this case seemed to have threatened every member of his family and it didn't look like they were at all done with it either - just yet. If it hadn't been for a little wisecrack-y camouflage, he didn't know what else he would have done. Finding out that this woman was a part of it all, a woman who had posed as his son's teacher for months and had just recently been the source of David's misery... It made him want to punch something. And Ziva wasn't feeling much different.

Abby nodded her head. "I'm the reason she was expelled."

"How so?"

"Jane had always been so quiet and nice and- You know…like the Easter Bunny. You know the Easter Bunny's not real, but you don't actually care 'cause you forget about it all year until…well…_Easter_ and then you realize it's there...for like a few days…a week at best. And then you start forgetting about the Easter Bunny again…until next year... One day when I came to the lab, I found _Jane..._tampering with evidence from classmates. You see, we had this competition going. Everyone had been assigned a real-life project they had to solve and the winner received an internship at Baton Rouge PD."

"Lemme guess, _you_ got the internship", Tony cut in and high-fived her upon Abby's nod, "Attagirl!"

Abby couldn't hide her smile for a moment, and neither could McGee nor Ziva. But they were soon back to dire reality when Abby continued with her story. "So, one day I find Jane contaminating projects in the lab. I tried talking to her, but she wouldn't listen. So…I- I reported her. _But_…I convinced the board to let her stay. The thing was, though, when they looked into her conduct and internships they found a number of abnormalities during her stays, so… They expelled her."

"I never thought I'd say this", McGee started, getting up from his chair and putting his hand on Abby's shoulder, "But looks like somebody's still pretty mad at you."

"So, we agree on this? Per some fateful not-so-coincidence a bunch of people with their personal grudges ganged up on us to make it one _big_, collective grudge?", Tony summed up, feeling quite convinced that nothing about this case had turned out as merely the circumstantial coincidence it might have looked like from the safe outside.

"Do not fail to notice the theatrical buildup and context, however", Ducky's voice emerged from the back elevator as he approached the team in the bullpen.

"Did Gibbs fill you in?", Tony inquired, slinging his arm around Ziva's waist for support. He had noticed her inching closer to him for some time now. Standing up was obviously still very tiring for her state of health.

"Jethro requested a psychological profile of Patrick Rikers, yes", Ducky affirmed, positioning himself in the middle of the bullpen, so that all eyes were set on him in curious anticipation, "I spent the last few hours reconnoitering Rikers' files and the transcripts of his murder trial. And he is clearly a man for the big stage. In a way, he is all that your training is _not_, Ziva."

Ziva's eyes had grown fairly distant in contemplation but soon re-focused. "Niv Peled-"

"Yes", Ducky elaborated softly, "That is why they have worked so efficiently together. They are like complementary pieces of a whole. While Peled would immediately and with meticulous precision lunge at the throat, Rikers - faced with the exact same task - would first learn everything about his victim before luring them into an obliquely constructed trap."

"Now, there's one guy I wouldn't wanna have dinner with", Tony declared somewhat distastefully.

"This case is all part of a bigger plan and he is executing its complexity step-by-step, so that each accomplished stage reaffirms his position as a leader to the outside and to the inside", Ducky continued, "_He_ is leading a small group of people, there is no doubt about that. What is even more, however, he exerted enough power to keep a lid on their plan for as long as he wasn't free and able to watch and be a part of it."

"All they'd been waiting for was his release", Gibbs confirmed, strolling into the bullpen. He had listened to Ducky's account - and the team's continuous findings, for that matter - from the top landing thus far.

Ducky nodded. "And _his _release alone."

Abby screwed her face up in disgust. "He certainly likes his plans big and gooey…what with all those body parts and brains in jars and eyeballs in ring boxes and- and ears in urns and hands in lockers-"

"Well, the plot sickens", Tony deadpanned.

"Oh no, do not mistake the body parts as merely the ill fancy of a troubled mind", Ducky pointed out decidedly, "They are as much a part of the complex whole as everything else."

"You mean the body parts had an actual meaning…beyond leading us to the next one?", Ziva inquired, her eyes narrowing.

"Exactly."

"Okay…", McGee picked up on this new vantage point, "So… There was a hand, an ear, an eyeball and a brain. Makes four…but we're five."

Ducky's eyebrows rose definitely and he held up his index finger in knowing caution. "Ah…Timothy, you are quite right. Because _Ziva_…was not a part of Rikers' plan."

"She wasn't?"

"I wasn't?"

"No, you were part of Niv Peled's quest for revenge on your father, Ziva. Peled is completely different from Rikers in thinking and execution."

Tony subconsciously tightened his hold on Ziva. She noticed. She didn't mind. "That leaves us merry four", Tony asserted sardonically, "Can I be the hand?"

"Tony-"

"Wait, McGee, that might not be as stupid as it sounds."

"Thanks, Abs…I think…"

"You said you did some serious investigating playing poker with Hamm's buddies?"

McGee's eyes widened as he realized where Abby was going with her idea. "And playing poker you're preferably dealt a good-"

"-hand", Ziva supplied quickly, catching on to Abby's and McGee's reasoning.

"Ducky, you think locations would mean something as well?", Tony inquired.

"Definitely. Rikers would never leave anything up for much interpretation seeing as _his_ interpretation…in _his_ mind…is the only accurate one."

"So, the university would fit Abby's story, right?"

The bullpen fell silent for a moment while all of them tried to assemble the jigsaw pieces in their minds. Abby spoke up first, "So, mine's the eyeball. For finding Jane in the lab that night, I guess."

"Well there, that leaves you with the ear, McAudio."

"An ear we found in a _Colombian _restaurant in Annapolis no less", Ziva cut in pensively, "Captain Linley was killed by Theodore Stills…in Colombia."

"And you _ears_-dropped on a conversation that sent him to prison for it", Tony clarified.

"Actually, we're still missing the brain", McGee said.

At once, they all turned to look at Gibbs, who had taken a stand a little behind Ducky, near his desk. He had been ostensibly quiet, listening to all their reasoning and rationale. A small smile had tugged at his lips just a second before, but was now replaced by an odd clarity and purpose on his face. He raised his eyebrows, warding off their apprehensive gazes with suave cool.

"Take it as a compliment, boss", Tony quipped.

"No better way to find out than go look", Gibbs countered, holding up a sheet of paper, "Search warrant for Rikers' apartment."

McGee immediately jumped behind his desk and retrieved his backpack. Tony, however, eyed Ziva warily. She was still leaning against him and he could see that the adrenalin pumping through her veins was quite evidently wearing her out. She had grown increasingly quiet as well. While he was still caught up in assessing Ziva's condition, however, Gibbs had come up in front of the pair. He was looking directly at Ziva, the look in his sapphire eyes all but distinct.

"You're staying."

It was a simple statement, not an order, not a command. It was a decisive statement, interwoven with layers of compassion and protectiveness. All eyes were on her, but to their surprise Ziva nodded her head. Gibbs curtly repeated her gesture and briefly squeezed her hand before he strode off towards the elevator, McGee hard on his tracks.

Tony carefully eased Ziva into his chair and kissed her forehead, whispering, "When I come back, we'll get the kids and you go home…to rest."

Once again Ziva nodded. When she found his eyes searching hers, his face directly in front of hers, she didn't care for a moment: She leant forward and captured his lips, kissing him softly. With a grin Tony grabbed his backpack and - with a last gaze - stormed out, boarding the elevator McGee had been holding open for him.

"That Rikers guy kinda missed the heart, didn't he?", Abby mused. Ducky smiled.

* * *

Their guns drawn and their senses alert, McGee, Tony and Gibbs raided Patrick Rikers' apartment in South East Washington. It was a small one-bedroom apartment, scarcely furnished and appearing hardly lived-in. There were but a few selected items in each drawer they pulled out, just a few pieces of clothing in each closet they opened and no food at all. By the looks of it, the apartment was either a mere stop-over or in itself part of a bigger plan they were gradually peeling - and peeling with purpose.

"Clear!", Tony declared finally, returning from the back room.

When he stepped into the living room, however, he found McGee coming up behind Gibbs as the latter had just stopped short in front of the small coffee table. What they found waiting on it made Tony's jaw drop and McGee's eyes go wide. Gibbs' muscles clenched. He reached out and picked up the letter that was addressed to _'Jethro'_ in the neatest calligraphy. Tony quickly joined McGee behind Gibbs and they both looked over his shoulder when he opened the letter in a swift motion.

Gibbs' body tensed, so did Tony's and McGee's. They read it over and over but the message of it didn't change. There was but one sentence and an address written on it. The message was clear. And it was more than personal:

'_How i__s the family, Jethro? - 51 Chester Street'_


	27. In a storm's gathering

**ANOTHER CHAPTER** towards the end. Thank you again for your loyal reviews - I cannot tell you enoug how much I appreciate them! So, please, for the sake of reciprocity do keep up sharing your thoughts with me until the end. And to all of you out there who continually read this story: I sincerely appreciate your readership, maybe you can get around to dropping me a line along the final passage of the way.

Moreover, I very much hope that all your questions and confusions will be answered throughout these last few chapters. If not, I can only **urge you to ask**.

* * *

I can only recommend you **PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THE TIME STAMPS **in front of each statement of location - otherwise the scene-structure could lead to some serious confusion on your part. The sequences leap out of chronology at some point. Alas, due to the successional feature of storytelling this is the only device to emulate TV's synchrony...and tension.

* * *

_**Last chapter…**_

_Gibbs' body tensed, so did Tony's and McGee's. They read it over and over but the message of it didn't change. There was but one sentence and an address written on it. The message was clear. And it was more than personal:_

'_How is the family, Jethro? - 51 Chester Street'_

**Chap 27**** Gradual Summit - ACT II  
**_or: In a storm's gathering_

_Friday, November 22__nd__ 2018_

_00:52 pm:_ **716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

There was no doubt about what Rikers wanted from them. There was no doubt about the plan, not now. Rikers wanted them to play - what's more, he wanted to play them. And Gibbs was determined to play along for as long as the purpose allowed.

Tony had stayed true to his word. After they had returned and briefed their teammates as well as Director Vance, Tony had taken Ziva home, picking David and Tali up from school en route. The upheaval of earlier that day had positively worn Ziva out, weighing heavily onto her still very fragile health. Just how fragile, Tony had realized the moment she hadn't complained in the slightest about his order of bedrest.

In the meantime, Gibbs and McGee had picked up Agent Wheeler and put her in interrogation. Tony was on his way to the observation room when he crossed path with Gibbs in the hallway.

"I'll hold the matchbook, you go fry her, boss", Tony half-quipped, trying to move past Gibbs, but the older agent wouldn't budge. Tony's eyebrows furrowed.

"Not cooking."

"In case you haven't noticed, that woman in there allegedly kidnapped my daughter and is cozy with the guy who set up for the love of my life to get killed", Tony concluded, his green eyes gleaming, "There's your serious Rule Number 10 breach right there."

A crooked smile formed on Gibbs' face. "Nah…I don't think so."

"I don't think you get it. If I go in there, I _will_ fry her…just not metaphorically speaking."

"You're a better agent than that." Gibbs handed the file over, turned on his heel and went for the observation room. Handle in hand, he looked back around. "Looks more like a female version of you than McGee anyway."

Then he vanished behind the door, leaving Tony to ponder.

* * *

_0__1:57 pm:_ **West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Ziva was taking the last step of the staircase. She had just fought her way upstairs to go to the bathroom - only to affirm that walking _down_ the steps was considerably harder than walking up. The living room was as dim as she had left it. Ever since that morning she was plagued by a piercing headache and had thus pulled down most of the blinds. She cautiously sauntered back over to the couch but stepped around it. She turned and leaned against its straight back instead. And just like that she was looking directly into the throat of the barrel.

"When did you first notice me?", he asked curiously, the hint of a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"When I was washing up", Ziva answered, her voice calmly even.

"I never expected it to be easy."

"Is that why you have waited so long, Niv?", Ziva asked, "It has been more than eighteen years."

"I am a very patient man, Ziva David."

"Patient enough to subordinate your goals to those of others?"

"A working symbiosis."

"Not exactly your preferred operating method."

"You base your knowledge on the man who trained you eighteen years ago."

"It does not look like you have changed much", Ziva assessed, her eyebrows dimming.

"Maybe… Not so _you_", Niv asserted, taking a step closer, "You have become sloppy. I have been watching you for some time. Even now you do not even carry a weapon."

"It would not matter", Ziva concluded with an expressive if faint smirk, "I can neither hold a gun nor throw a knife."

"That would have never stopped you before. _Pain _would have never stopped you."

"There is more than one way to neutralize a threat", Ziva explained distinctly, her eyes narrowing, "Maybe it is not you but _I_ who has changed. I am not the woman anymore who broke your radius on her first day of close combat training."

A searing smile flickered across Niv's face. "I guess, this is the moment that you reveal the impact your children have had on your life."

Niv talking about Tali and David made the danger of it suddenly so much more imminent. "They deserve to make an impact", Ziva retorted blatantly, a defensive note woven through.

Niv chuckled. "They do."

Ziva nodded. "You have not been watching me."

"No?"

"I would have noticed. You know that I would have", Ziva stated calmly, "But that morning outside the coffee shop-"

"Mistakes were made", Niv cut in, "But not by me."

His sapphire blue eyes were burning into her ambers, but Ziva stood her ground. She gazed into the depth that were his eyes and she could see so much more layers beneath the ruthless assassin that was threatening in front of her.

"I am alive."

"Yes", Niv returned coolly, his right hand tightening almost unnoticeably around the handle of the gun, "I have always been known to clean up my mistakes."

"Then how did you confirm that it was me?"

"You said it yourself", Niv answered off-handedly, "I always suspected, but when you told Jane that you were born in Tel Aviv, that your daughter's name was Talia… I knew."

Ziva couldn't believe the surge of fury tearing through her insides the moment Niv called her daughter and her _sister_ by their name. Her instincts made her uninjured arm twitch. In a situation as eerily energized as this it would have been easy to disarm him and get into a hand-to-hand fight that would have eventually confirmed just how much they had changed - or hadn't, for that matter. It would have been a risk, the risk of Niv surpassing her skills: a risk she ultimately didn't want to take. Winning the fight did not seem as appealing either with the firm knowledge that she would have dislocated her ribs and sternum in the process.

"I understand you want to hurt my father by killing the only daughter he has left", Ziva stated matter-of-factly, "But to my father I have been dead for eight years."

Niv scoffed derisively. "Now you insult me, Ziva. You last saw him at Adena's funeral one year ago. You talk. You have forgiven him."

"Forgiveness is a big word", Ziva mused, her voice leveled to an honest breath, "And lots of times acceptance is mistaken for forgiveness."

Niv looked at her for a long time, uncovering the sheer sincerity of her words. "It does not change anything for _me_."

Ziva searched his eyes. "This will not give you peace."

"This is not a question _you_ can answer", Niv sneered.

"I _have_ found my peace…. I was lucky to, yes. But killing me…it is just what you _think_ you want, what you _think_ will give you peace", Ziva implored, "We have your wife, we have your son. _They_ are where you should look."

Upon her words a furious glint settled in Niv's blue eyes. He flicked his index finger against his Glock 17, unlocking the cylindrical key in the back of the pistol's grip.

* * *

_0__1:05 pm:_ **716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Tony entered the interrogation room. A first swift look swayed into the direction of the mirror and landed, unconsciously so, directly in Gibbs' sapphire eyes. Agent Wheeler wasn't looking at him, though. She was sitting on the suspect's side of the table, staring straight ahead into an unknown space. Her ash blonde hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and her black-rimmed glasses sat sternly on the bridge of her nose. Tony didn't bother looking at her. Instead, he slammed the file on the desk, making her jump - if only slightly. Then he pulled out the other chair, sitting down in a distinct distance to the table. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, seizing her with his eyes challengingly.

She looked up, a small squint of breath escaping her lips. "Where is my son?"

The cool in Tony's look melted for a second as the faces of David and Tali flashed before his eyes. "Steven's being looked after." Two agents had picked the six-year-old up from school and brought him back to NCIS. Tony would have laughed at the irony of it, but his inner turmoil was occupying all of his senses.

"Open it", Tony demanded with returned serenity.

Claire seemed unsure for a moment, her gaze alternating between Tony's determinedly detached expression and the beige file on the table between them. She had seen so many beige files in her line of work, it was almost ridiculous how anxious she felt. Eventually, she slipped a hand forward and pulled the file towards her, opening it slowly. She swallowed hard: Two pale-blue faces were gleaming back at her from two autopsy panoramas of two dead Marines.

"Not pretty, is it?", Tony deadpanned, his voice void of color.

Claire quickly closed the file again, faintly shaking her head.

With a jolt Tony pushed himself and his chair towards the table. "Look at them", he ordered coldly, flinging the file back open and holding up the pictures of Sergeant Rivers' and Corporal Kent's corpses, "You're the reason they're dead."

"That's not true. I didn't kill them", Claire defended at once.

"No, you didn't", Tony sneered, placing both pictures squarely on the table, so that her eyes couldn't very well avoid them, "You just neatly signed your name on their death sentences."

"I didn't know-"

"Tell me something, Claire", Tony cut in, his voice suddenly evenly sweet. He folded his hands on the table, his eyebrows furrowing. "I can call you Claire, right? Claire's your only first name, is it? No second name, no alias, no changed name. Just Claire, clear and sweet, right?"

His sudden change of demeanor drove a scowl onto her face, but she nodded nonetheless - if irritably.

"I just wanna make sure 'cause, you know…with your _surname _and all… Complicated much, I can tell ya", he continued, the color of his voice jumping in and out of crescendos. A frown settled on his face and he started moving his hands up and down as if trying to estimate the weight of two invisible objects in each palm. "Peled. Wheeler. Wheeler. Peled. Or both…or _none_. We never know for sure, right?" A distant laugh trickled from the back of his throat.

She visibly gulped. "It's Wheeler now", she answered serenely.

"Not forever and ever."

"People fall in love. People marry. People realize the mistake they made…and they divorce. It's nothing unusual."

"It is…", Tony retorted, his voice unusually high. Then he slammed his palms flat on the table. "When your ex is a maniacal assassin with daddy issues."

"You don't-"

"No", Tony interjected, "I _ask_. _You_ answer. And here's for life in a State prison: Why'd you betray your country?"

"You _don't_…understand", she countered matter-of-factly, a façade of composure erupting on her face and in her attitude.

Tony wrong-buzzed her. "Wrong answer. Re-try."

Claire leaned back in her chair, her look sincere. "If there's one thing I learned from Niv, it's that family is more important than country."

"How Pai Mei of him", Tony scoffed, "So, just like that, you decided to give a fuck about your country, screw over the people you work with and get a couple of them killed… All in one clean sweep, huh? Gotta say, I admire your efficiency."

"You _don't_ understand."

A laugh dripped from Tony's lips. "You're damn right I don't understand!", he roared, pushing his chair even closer to the table, "As far as _I_ know, you played lead support in my wife's near-_fatal_ car accident and you put my kids in danger. Right now I don't know what other crap you pulled to get this plot on the road, but I'll go out on a limb here and suppose it's not exactly G-rated either."

"I didn't-"

"Your job's a goner. You'll never work for the government ever again. In _fact_, you'll be lucky to be working _ever_ again when…and _if_ you get out of prison. _You_, my little _EVE_, are boiled, fried and about to be cut into nice, digestible pieces", Tony clarified, his tone derisively calmer than before, "Make it easier for the both of us. Just spit it out."

"Spit out _what_ exactly?", Claire scoffed, "I'm not part of the _in-crowed_, you know."

"Be..._creative_."

"I did what my ex-husband asked me to do, nothing more…and nothing less", she relayed honestly, "I know I will have to take responsibility for what I did-"

"You bet you will."

"But _believe_ me…I got into all of this because I backed my husband. By the time I realized what he had gotten himself into, it was too late. The others would have killed us- They would have killed Steven if we'd just bailed on them."

"What about Niv's slice'n'dice? He'd have found a way to protect you", Tony argued.

"There are some risks not even somebody like _him_ would take willingly."

Tony could see the deep truth in her eyes. At that moment he realized what Gibbs had been talking about: Claire was more of a version of himself because at the end of this he_, Tony _could relate more to her motives and motivation than anybody else could. He'd been there, he'd done that - in fact, he _was_ there and he _was_ doing it. He knew exactly how Claire felt, how unfathomable that training and mindset could be for somebody like him - somebody like _her_.

Still, there was one abyss of a difference that separated Tony DiNozzo from Claire Wheeler. "And all this for _what_?", Tony honed.

Claire, however, seemed unperturbed. She answered with ease, "Niv's revenge."

"So, he didn't only screw up his _own_ life, he also screwed up yours and probably your son's as well. All that because he got the small end of the fuse?"

"I have stopped questioning our choices long ago, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony's expression mellowed and his eyes deepened in their intensity. "What about your son? Even if you could afford O.J.'s _Dream Team_, you'll spend dozens of years in prison…and so will Niv. And believe _me_, we'll get our hands on him one way or another…"

Claire remained silent.

"You might want to make this easier on Steven, though", Tony suggested calmly, "Help us."

Claire sighed. "You cannot promise me any legally binding deals. I know you can't."

"But I know a thing or two about how the system works, Claire. Please… Tell me what the plan is. Tell me what Niv's going to do next."

Claire looked weary, unsure about what to answer - _if_ to answer…

* * *

_02:__23 pm:_** West Clark Street - Apartment 7 **

Tony stormed through the front door. Usually, he would have turned right towards the elevators but not so on that day. He went straight ahead, taking three steps at once as he sprinted up the stairway. McGee was right on his heels. In the hallway Tony drew his gun, breath catching in his throat that he refused to release. McGee followed suit without thinking twice. When Tony stopped short at the corner to the dark-wood apartment door, above which a brass '_7'_ was looking down upon their sweaty foreheads, McGee did the same on the other side. Tony tried the doorknob. He nodded curtly. So did McGee.

Tony quietly shoved the door to his own apartment open and started inching forward, McGee right on track. It lay silent, completely silent. A knot had formed in Tony's stomach the moment Claire had finally divulged Niv's plan. Right now, however, when no sound reached him and silence started speaking volumes of dread, he could feel vomit tickling at the back of his throat.

Then he reached the entrance to the living room. "Federal Agents! Drop your weapon!", Tony yelled the moment his eyes fell on Niv pointing a gun at Ziva, who was leaning heavily against the couch for support.

"Drop your weapon!", McGee repeated erratically, turning up at Tony's side and aiming at the man they had identified as Niv Peled - ex-husband of one Claire Wheeler - just the day before.

"It is funny", Niv stated calmly, a diminutive smile catching his lips, "I would have never believed that the man to steal your heart would be American…and _so_ American indeed."

Niv's steel blue eyes were still focused entirely on Ziva and Ziva was staring back at him. Her ambers had just once diverted to the side for a split second to catch Tony's emeralds in silent reassurance of situational well-being.

"When I left Israel you and Sol-"

"Just because you caught us in that weapons carrier did not make us to be married", Ziva cut in forcefully but with a knowing, almost impish edge.

"No, it did not, did it?", Niv almost laughed, a memory lifting up his mind, "We both know how many meaningless affairs it takes to find the one to get us out of our world."

Ziva nodded, if faintly, her eyes quickly landing on Tony. Tony, however, remained fiercely silent.

"It makes his and Adena's story all the more a tragedy."

"They held on to each other. That is _not_…a tragedy at all", Ziva argued, slowly straightening up.

Niv nodded affirmatively, a laugh dripping from his lips. Then he turned to look at Tony. "You have no idea how much it takes", Niv assessed evenly.

"He does", Ziva interjected.

"He does…", Niv mused, his gaze alternating between Ziva and Tony, "Then holding on is not as hard, is it?"

Ziva was looking back at him, her eyes narrowed and adorned with an obstinate glint. Meanwhile, Tony was completely focused, their conversation drifting by his subconscious - to be processed at a moment less dangerous and threatening to their life.

"You can stop glaring at me now, Agent DiNozzo", Niv asserted finally, tilting the barrel of his Glock to the floor, "It is unloaded." He pulled the trigger and a faint clicking noise cut through the silence of the room.

McGee instantly leapt forward and took the Glock from Niv, who willingly surrendered to the handcuffs. His blue eyes, however, were still stuck on Ziva. Tony quickly holstered his SIG and went to her. The moment he was close enough, her restraint caved in and she gently slipped against his chest. Tony was careful not to hurt her with his grip but couldn't help slinging his arms protectively around her. He couldn't resist the need to hold her even closer, make sure nothing more would happen to her. When he looked down, he could see her eyes were alert - it was her body that was yielding to the threats.

"Are you okay?", he asked finally, almost voicelessly.

"I will be", Ziva answered, her eyes catching his.

"When you didn't answer my call, I-"

"It is a good thing then you let me install that secure line, yes?" Ziva smiled, eliciting a scowl on Tony's face.

"That creepy buzzer actually worked for ya?"

"Don't you mock my alert. After all, you _did _try it", Ziva challenged, the drain of adrenalin in her body slowly making her heavier in Tony's arms.

"I'm just glad you're okay", Tony conceded easily and kissed her forehead, "When Wheeler told me he was after you…I- First time I wanted to scream _'Beam me up, Scotty!'_ and actually mean it."

"Trekkie much, Tony?", McGee quipped, unconsciously tightening the handcuffs around Niv's wrists a little over small-comfort-level.

"For holistic reasons only", Tony countered, not taking his eyes off of Ziva.

A swift grin crossed Ziva's lips. She had always cherished the thread of teasing running through their everyday life as a team at NCIS. She had missed a lot of its past grandeur for the last two years. "So, Claire broke?"

"Hitchcock-ily so", Tony confirmed, a small victorious streak penetrating his voice, "Looks like she was a big-big part of _the_ plan. And with _the_ plan I mean there's even more to it…but we'll get to that later…" He nodded over towards Niv, who looked serenely calm.

"Apparently, she programmed the chip we found in the eyeball, constructed the burn identity for Jane Mill, erased Corporal Kent's number at the phone company so we wouldn't be onto him too early into the case and she caused that system crash in Abby's lab to re-establish Kent's profile at the AFIS database, so Abby could finally draw up some results", McGee supplied, the calm in his demeanor trying to hard-cover the dire admiration he held for those feats of technical genius.

"She is something, is she not?", Niv perked up, smiling weakly against their mutual glares.

* * *

_0__3:42 pm:_ **716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"So, that's what withdrawal looks like, huh?", Tony asked rhetorically as he, McGee and Gibbs looked on while Abby tried her hardest not to crush Ziva in a bear hug.

Earlier McGee had quickly alerted reinforcements to take Niv back to NCIS Headquarters where the Israeli native was currently waiting patiently and composedly in _Interrogation II_. He had not moved an inch since two agents had ordered him to take a seat on the suspect's side of the table. And really, for the moment most of their minds were not on Niv but solely on Ziva and her present well-being. Gibbs' mind, however, seemed oddly preoccupied. He was starting to piece together the puzzle that was the most bizarre of his cases in a working history of over 25 years in law-enforcement. It was starting to make sense, too. But he was more than glad that nothing had happened to Ziva as well - he had to give them that.

"I'm telling you, this…_my_ heart-combo's been playing farewell serenades far too often with you guys. If you keep up that pace of near-fatal standoffs for another twenty years, I'm gonna be a nervous wreck come forty-five", Abby rambled, loosening her grip on Ziva.

"As opposed to the serene joie de vivre right now", McGee quipped, leaning against his desk with a half-smile.

Abby finally let go of Ziva in order to administer a semi-serious slap to McGee's upper arm. Ziva, who had quietly allowed Abby to act out her holistic need for reassurance, sat back against Gibbs' desk. Gibbs, lounging behind his desk, didn't seem to mind at all. Tony took a step closer and a hold of Ziva's hand.

"Where've the kids been the whole time anyway?"

"When I realized what Niv's intention was and what he was a part of, I knew it was not over for us. I knew he would not just give up", Ziva asserted calmly, locking eyes with Abby.

"You knew he was going to go after you and the kids?", McGee asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

"I could not be sure, of course…but it is what I would have done: stayed on target", Ziva explained, the timbre in her voice almost apologetic, "At first he would have spared a child's life, even risking exposure when he had Claire pick up Tali before my accident. But I knew he would not be just as considerate executing his Plan B."

"Tali and David never were at the apartment. Sarah's had them all day", Tony substituted, having called them with Ziva on their ride back to NCIS, "I guess, that's what you get when Good Spidey goes up against Bad Spidey."

McGee arched an eyebrow. "Weird reference."

"It is, isn't it…", Tony conceded at once, a laugh dripping from his lips.

Ziva basked in the glad enjoyment that could be her work and everyday life for another minute before she turned around to face Gibbs. "I want to be the one interrogating Niv."

Gibbs's steel blue eyes just locked with hers. "Ziver…"

"No way", Tony cut in determinedly, squeezing her hand, "No way in hell. I'm not letting you go in there and wear yourself out with that little punk."

"He is hardly a little punk, Tony", Ziva corrected benevolently, returning the soft squeeze of shared intimacy, "I can understand him. And you cannot."

"It's not that simple."

"It is."

"No, it's not. It's _not_", Tony emphasized, stepping away from her to get a better look, "In the last week you almost died on me and the kids twice. _Twice_, Ziva. I mean, _look_ at you! You can barely stand up straight and you wanna go in there and take on that mind-fucking bastard? I can't let you do that…no…I- I _won't_ let you do that."

"Yes, you will, because it is not your decision to make, my love", Ziva countered sincerely, her voice much more calmly serene than Tony's, "You know how much I appreciate your concern and your will to protect me. But right now…I do not need protection. Right now we need to put a close on this case and get on with our lives."

For Tony it had always been hard to stand that one look in Ziva's eyes, that look that was so clear and yet so fervent that he felt scared of blinking it away no matter how emotively crushing it was to his most resolute composure.

It left Tony with but one last word. "_Please_…Ziva."

"I need to do this…and you need to understand that."

"Gibbs", Tony implored his old boss. He had always been able to count on Gibbs' sensible decisions, on his stringent orders and his target-prone ways - no matter the detours.

Gibbs had followed the lovers' argument with keen interest up until now. He had been volleying the thought of who would get to interrogate Peled around in his head for quite some time. In his mind there was only one real choice, however. In fact, he knew with every fiber of certainty that only one of them could savor the chance of this case turning out all right.

Gibbs finally looked up and into Tony's eyes. "Looks like she's made up her mind."

Tony's stomach dropped five stories. "You can't be serious…", he murmured.

Ziva nodded knowingly at her boss.

"Come on, Gibbs", Abby interjected, finally succumbing to the insistent urge of voicing her opinion, "You can't throw her in there."

"I'm not throwing her, Abby. I'm just opening the doors."

"I am going all by myself, Abby", Ziva added, trying very hard to lighten the antagonistic mood.

McGee, knowing that both arguing parties had valid points in their own rights, also knew that he needed to trust those who were making the final decision. He had worked with Gibbs and Ziva long enough to trust their instincts. But it wasn't just that he trusted his boss and his partner with his life. He had seen firsthand the connection that undoubtedly existed between Ziva and Niv that afternoon. There was a history there. There was a shared history there - nothing sexual, of course, but something more of an empathetic nature. He doubted that Niv would open up to anyone but Ziva.

"He will not open up to anyone but me", Ziva stated, "And you would know this if you stopped letting your feelings interfere with your judgment."

"Good God, are you even listening to yourself?", Tony shot back, slowly getting quite agitated, "Do you realize how much you're channeling your father right now?"

"That is not fair, Tony. I am not telling you to shut out all of your feelings. I am just asking you to stop worrying about me for long enough to remember that you can trust me. I will not knowingly put myself at a risk I cannot gauge", Ziva insisted, her voice starting to plead with Tony's resolve.

"Right now, you _are_ risking your body…your health."

"All this is threatening our life, our family…our _children_. We both know that I am our only chance at getting through to Niv and stopping this threat. I will go easy on myself where need be, I promised you that. But do not expect _me_…to sit idly by while you all go under."

Abby had long shrunk back towards McGee, withdrawing her active part in the argument. She and Gibbs had made their vantage points known, but ultimately it was a decision that awaited its absolution from Tony and Ziva - and those two alone.

It seemed like minutes that emeralds and ambers kept staring into each other. Then Tony sighed. "Okay…but don't you expect me to stand idly by either. At the smallest sign I'll come in there and go Sasquatch on him."

"I would not expect any differently."

Two small smiles met in dire agreement.

* * *

_0__4:11 pm:_ **NCIS Headquarters - Bullpen**

Ziva had just stepped out of the bullpen, leaving them with a last reassuring smile on her way to the forefront elevator. Abby and McGee had decided to comply with the adoption agency's proposed appointment only a few minutes before. They kind of felt the need to go forth with their hopeful routine despite the peril they could both sense so close to them. It took their minds off of it for a while, it took their minds to a place that could be. Gibbs wanted to take a detour down to autopsy where he knew Ducky was reviewing the case and double-checking his analysis. He needed a word with his oldest friend before joining Ziva during interrogation. Thus, Tony was momentarily left alone - left alone to ponder.

Ziva's words had made him realize the odd connection between Niv and Ziva. Niv was part of her past, a past Tony still knew so little about. And it wasn't because he didn't wonder and ask or because Ziva didn't answer each of his questions - spoken or ineffable - to the best of her emotional ability. Tony knew so little about her past because it was so rich in nameless details and yet so poor in instances he could relate to in a way that would make him inquire about them. In a way he knew that and in a way he was okay with that. He intended to spend the rest of his life with her, there was still enough time to get to know her again and again. It were those moments when he was almost losing her, however, that their living reality became the most taxing to him.

And it was strange to know that down in _Interrogation II_ sat a man who seemed to know so agonizingly much about the love of Tony's life while it seemed he knew so little. But he knew her present, didn't he? Nobody knew Ziva's present self better than Tony. _Right? _Still, it felt strange to let her go to face her past without him there. But he would be.

With a sudden jolt Tony pushed himself away from Gibbs' desk and set out after Ziva. He caught her just in time before the doors of the elevator opened. He quickly grabbed her arm and carefully guided her into the men's room, locking the door behind them.

She looked at him with a dumbfounded expression on her face. "Tony what-"

Tony was leaning against the door, his hands hidden behind him and cradling the doorknob. He took a breath, pressing out but one word, "Tali."

Ziva halfway rolled her eyes, taking a step closer to him. "Tony, I need to-"

"Tali", he repeated monotonously.

Ziva sighed impatiently. "Our daughter, yes?" She thought they would further discuss the kids when the immediate threats were taken care of. Hadn't they talked about it yesterday? Hadn't they agreed on it yesterday?

"No, Ziva", Tony explained gently, "The one you _don't_ talk about. Your sister."

At once a wall of resolve erupted behind Ziva's eyes and invaded her demeanor. Even her shoulders squared almost unnoticeably. "What about her?", she asked guardedly.

"While you were…_out_…Tali, our _daughter_ Tali kept reciting this story you apparently tell them from time to time." Tony finally let go of the doorknob and stepped closer to her.

"She did?" Ziva's voice swayed between pride and dread.

"Yeah", Tony affirmed with a small smile, "This story about the man and his family who rescue the woman from the desert."

Ziva gave a minuscule nod but remained silent.

"She tried to save her sister", Tony assessed off-handedly.

His words registered with her like a sudden ray of explosive light, still she couldn't quite make sense of them _- wouldn't._ "Come again?", Ziva retorted, her voice drained of the last bit of color.

"The woman went to the desert in the first place because she wanted to save her sister", Tony amplified, taking yet another step towards her, "Saleem killed Tali, didn't he?"

Ziva looked on resolutely, old feelings of revenge burning behind her eyes. For a moment it seemed she was looking right through him. "And I wanted to kill Saleem", Ziva stated matter-of-factly, "And I…did _not_."

"But he's dead. That CafPow slurping psychopath got what'd been coming to him", Tony insisted with a certain sense of pride.

"Not by _my_ hand."

"Doesn't matter, he's dead."

Ziva smiled sadly. "Revenge is a complicated thing, Tony."

There it was again, the way of thinking he had such a hard time comprehending. Then something caught his mind. "Eli knew a mission to kill Tali's murderer would get you back to him."

"He knew that _only_ a mission to avenge my sister's death could have set up my Aliyah", Ziva nodded, her eyes briefly losing themselves in past mistakes.

"But why-"

"Nothing could have stopped me from accepting that mission, _even_ if he had given me a choice."

"Not even I?"

Tony had said those words without thinking, they had just tumbled out of his mouth. They were spoken by the present him, the one who cherished waking up next to her in the morning and not the one who had mistrusted her judgment twelve years ago.

"You do not understand. It was about _Tali_", Ziva asserted with a little less breath than she had expected.

"I know, I- We…we weren't- You and I, I hadn't- I mean, I had just killed your-" Tony was on the verge of rambling his way out of his little verbal faux-pas, but Ziva put a gentle finger on his lips to silence him.

"It did not matter what we had been to each other back then. I had just lost someone I had allowed myself to love and you had killed him. Your mistrust was justified, your killing him was justified and still… Michael _was..._also my belief in the world I had grown up in, in my father's world and _you_-", Ziva spoke in a whisper, her words soft and yet so well thought-through that Tony started losing himself in her eyes, "_You_ stood for that new world, for that new family I was slowly letting myself be a part of. It was like you were killing off everything I had believed in for most of my life.

"I was…confused. I did not know _what_ to believe in anymore…_who_ to believe. And still…_you_ wanted me to decide and my father wanted me to decide and Gibbs…Gibbs was waiting for my decision", Ziva continued, not once retreating her hand from the side of Tony's face, "Despite what you might think of him, Tony, but my father _knows_ me. He knew the state my mind was in at that time…he knew the prospect of revenge on Tali's killer would lead me to act rashly…without thinking. I looked to Gibbs…to- to take away that decision from me, but I asked the wrong way. I asked him to make a choice that was stupid of me to expect he would make in my favor. And I made the mistake of taking it for a personal choice and not a rational choice…which it was. Eli _knew_ I would act this way."

Tony took a hold of her hand. "So, he manipulated you."

"First and foremost my father is an Officer of the Mossad. He used his understanding of me for his purposes to avenge his daughter's death", Ziva stated almost coolly, "I cannot say that it is something I would _not_ have done myself…in different circumstances."

"But he sent you on a suicide mission."

"My sister was different because my children are different. Different from you."

Tony looked on inquisitively.

A small smile flickered across Ziva's serene face. "You do not need my protection."

"I have your back", Tony countered ever so softly.

"Yes, you have my back…the way _I_ always have your back", Ziva returned just as softly, her face inching even closer to his, "A mutuality. But not so with our kids…and not so with my sister. The risk of torture or death does not faze me when it comes to them… As always my father knew that Tali was his only chance for me to return to him willingly."

Tony was still unable to bear her serenity from time to time or maybe she had simply come to terms with her own past in a way that was still beyond him. "You could have died out there."

Suddenly, Ziva leaned in to kiss him. When she pulled back her eyes were smiling. "I did, a part of me did die out there. And in a way…Tali saved me again."

* * *

_06__:39 pm:_ **NCIS Headquarters - Bullpen**

McGee and Abby had returned from their appointment just half an hour ago and had been presented with the results of Niv's interrogation. Subsequently, Abby had refused to go home and was currently down in the lab with Ziva and the kids. Tony had implored Ziva to go home but she had refused, naturally. So, Tony had picked up the kids from Sarah's place and taken them to NCIS Headquarters where they would be safe for the time being. He and McGee were still up at logistics, picking up the equipment. The bullpen was empty except for Ducky and Gibbs. Gibbs was loading his gun and slipping it into the holster at his belt. He checked his bulletproof vest again. Ducky looked on from across the bullpen.

"Jethro, you can't go there alone", he exclaimed finally and stepped closer.

A slack smile jumped onto Gibbs' face. "I won't. McGee and DiNozzo go with me."

"Do you really think that wise?"

"I don't know, Duck", Gibbs answered nonchalantly, brushing past Ducky on his way to the elevator, "But we'll know in an hour."

* * *

**_...TO BE CONTINUED..._**

_Make it a happy long-ending, for me at least: Review!_


	28. Rushed ashore

**ONCE AGAIN** I want to sincerely thank you for your reviews and please keep it up through those last chapters. Once again an important detail: **TIME STAMPS - **there is practically not a speck of chronology in the upcoming two acts, but this kind of structure is pretty intriguing suspense-wise ;)

* * *

_**LAST CHAPTER...**_

_0__6:39 pm: __**NCIS Headquarters - Bullpen**_

_"Jethro, you can't go there alone", he exclaimed finally and stepped closer._

_A slack smile jumped o__nto Gibbs' face. "I won't. McGee and DiNozzo go with me."_

_"Do you really think that wise?"_

_"I don't know, Duck", Gibbs answered nonchalantly, brushing past Ducky on his way to the elevator, "But we'll know in an hour."_

**Chap 28 Gradual Summit - ACT III  
**_or: Rushed ashore_

_Friday, November 22__nd__ 2018_

_04:38 pm:_ **NCIS Headquarters - Interrogation II**

The woman who stepped into the interrogation room that afternoon wasn't the same woman from fifteen years ago, not the same woman who had stepped into the bullpen only to find her future soulmate there, even if she hadn't known at that time. Ziva wasn't the same anymore. They universally knew that for a fact. Gibbs and Tony were standing side by side behind the double-glass wall, not looking at Niv Peled's serene face but looking at Ziva and Ziva alone. They could feel the shift no matter what, the way Niv's blue eyes opened up more and the way a pile of history squeezed itself through the last crack of the door before Ziva snapped it shut.

Niv leaned back, his hands still neatly folded atop the table. They could tell he hadn't expected to see Ziva of all people but he seemed distantly intrigued by it.

"I take it your husband is watching from behind the glass?", Niv asked evenly.

Ziva slowly took out the other chair and sat down in it as if she had never woken up from a coma with fractured ribs and a cracked sternum only three days ago. Tony couldn't help but wince as he watched her, knowing how much pain it must have caused her to sit down without help. Ziva didn't even flinch, though. She roamed Niv's appearance with her dark amber eyes, casually placing a folder on the table between them. She gave its beige surface a few slow tabs with the tip of her thumb.

"Yes, he is."

"I guess, I have your American ways to thank that I am still alive then, yes?" A small smirk tugged at the edges of his mouth.

Ziva's lips twitched with a knowing smile. "Nothing you would find in one of _your_ handbooks."

"Including props", Niv nodded towards the folder.

They both knew that in another world at the same time this folder would have been replaced by a selected torture instrument. Ziva suddenly remembered that day not too long after Gibbs had inducted her into his team. She remembered him laying down the rules for an interrogation. She remembered him indicating the knife at her waist and telling her it had to go for every interrogation he might let her conduct in the future. That had been many an interrogation ago. She still remembered but she had never felt the absence of a knife at her waist as clearly as now, sitting opposite the man who had once told her to _always_ take a knife into interrogation - and to make good use of it before the one she was interrogating could.

"So…", Niv's eyes diverted to the cast on Ziva's left arm, "The doctors at your hospital spoke of rib fractures-"

"-among other inflictions, yes", Ziva cut him off, knowing full well where this was heading.

"You did not even flinch sitting down."

"Did you expect me to?"

"In a way...yes. _Yes_, I did", Niv stated lightly, "After all, it was you who told me that you had changed...and as always I believed you. But some things never change, do they?"

"I guess not", Ziva affirmed, her serene demeanor not wavering.

"We were shaped for a lifetime, were we not?"

"Yes", Ziva answered truthfully but added quickly before Niv could retort, "And no."

A scoff escaped his dry lips. "I suppose you are right. Of all the scenarios I imagined we could end up in, you interrogating me was certainly not one of them."

"You never could look beyond the perimeter."

"That is who I am."

"I thought Claire might-"

"It was doomed from the beginning then", Niv cut in with a remorseful edge to his voice, "I should have never let myself fall for her during our assignment in West Virginia. Ari was right. All this… She should have never been a part of it. _Steven_…should have never been a part of it."

"So he _is_ your son", Ziva assessed, suddenly seeing a very different version of the man she thought she knew well, "The records-"

"There are no records. Claire always claimed that Steven was conceived in a one-night-stand with _some_ man…not her ex-husband. I divorced her a few days after Eli killed my father. She moved to Washington and endured improv interrogations and harassment by your father's minions. We met…occasionally and in secret. Nothing…nothing could have tied her to me. She was never supposed to be in this kind of danger."

"How old is he?", Ziva asked, actually interested.

Niv stared at her for a long time. He had never expected to talk about his son to the woman he had pursued in deathly blood hunger for more than seventeen years. "He was born in 2012…", Niv answered finally, his tone of voice plummeting in expectancy.

Ziva's mind clicked into place. "As old as my son."

"An indispensably fateful coincidence", Niv declared ominously.

"How did you find me?", Ziva's voice calloused and her eyes narrowed.

"It was not easy. When I left, you had just started training for Komemiute. I had seen only a glimpse of what you were capable of. But I knew you could have easily been the most capable operative I had _ever_ seen. I left without a sensible profile of you. You were a ghost from the moment you entered Mossad and without access to Mossad logistics I had little hope of finding a chief operative anytime soon", Niv answered off-handedly and as if he had waited to tell his story for a long, long time.

"I was transferred in 2003", Ziva substituted, unable to mask a tinge of pain concerning the circumstances of her appointment as Liaison Officer.

"I know", Niv couldn't help but mirror that distant voice of pain, "Believe me, I was deeply sorry to hear from Ari's death. I always knew of his hatred for your father. We _were_ best friends-"

"Do you really think he would have stood by and let you kill me?", Ziva exclaimed suddenly. She may have lost her trust in the big brother she had grown up with, but Ari was her big brother nonetheless - the one who had taught her, comforted her, supported her.

"No, never", Niv retorted easily, his eyes widening in meek understanding, "I always knew of his motives and I always knew that your unconditional trust in him was to be disappointed. But I also knew how much he loved you and at the beginning… I had hoped he would find and kill me to avenge your death…and that way we all could have made our peace… One of many changes in the plan, I am afraid."

"I killed him", Ziva admitted unceremoniously.

Niv looked at her. "I know."

Tony jolted upright in the observation room. Of course, he had known how Ari had really died in Gibbs' basement for a long time. Gibbs himself had insinuated the actual events on more than one occasion, but Ziva had never actually told him. She had never actually said it out loud. Ari was a sore subject in her life and Tony knew how much she cherished her brother despite all that had happened. My God, she had killed her own brother. She wouldn't have become the woman she was, if she didn't feel any remorse over it.

"You could not know that I was with NCIS", Ziva stated beyond the glass.

"No, I could not. There were odd clues but nothing reliable. And then…", a knowing smile slipped from Niv's lips, "In 2008 newsfeeds diffused my search when at first I thought you in the US after the demise of Director Shepard and then believed you to be still with the Mossad when you turned up on my screen once more after your operation in Morocco had gone awry."

"And then?"

"To be honest, for some years I only tried to work against the growing chatter that you had died somewhere in the Horn of Africa", Niv stopped to look into Ziva's eyes as to her reaction but despite the throbbing in her heart she did not recoil, "Apparently, you were very adept at remaining beneath my radar…which…I have to admit...I had not been able to make full use of any longer. I was a fugitive. Eli had his underlings rid the world of every threat to his stance…and I was high up on the list of targets."

"You worked against the whole of Mossad…and lived."

"I am good", Niv slipped her a docile smirk, "You worked against me, even unknowingly… And yet you lived to interrogate."

"Luck", Ziva declared bluntly.

"Fate?"

"A little bit of both."

"Yes, probably", Niv nodded, "I spent most of my time crosschecking contacts to make sure their intel only had the price I was willing to pay for. A trying process."

"Long."

"Enduring. But thanks to your son not entirely futile."

Tony and Gibbs could see Ziva's shoulders squaring in the smallest of motions. Niv must have noticed as well. After all, he seemed dangerously capable of pushing the right buttons with the mother Ziva had become.

"How?"

"You see, the odd photograph is everything I have ever seen of my son up close. Curiously, in the year 2015 one of those photographs did not only show Steven in his preschool, it also showed a little boy whose features reminded me so much of young Ari that I could not believe my eyes. And next to him…the back of a woman, long russet brown hair and the poise of an assassin-"

"I am _not_…an assassin anymore."

"You cannot change everything you are, Ziva David", Niv declared simply, his eyes narrowing, "After I had seen that photograph, I had Claire change preschools and started pursuing you again. And it was difficult. I knew, I could not just observe you like I would the next one, you would have noticed me…and you kept a very low profile."

"Not being an assassin anymore will do that to you", Ziva retorted defiantly.

She was distantly hating the fact that David's schooling had put all of them in danger. Her past had never been more imminent than right now, right there. That feeling was creeping up her esophagus once again: Had it been irresponsible to have children, had she put them in fathomless danger just by being their mother?

"And then one day a year later I practically stepped on Sergeant Stills pointing a sniper rifle at your partner Agent McGee two blocks from where you were investigating a crime scene with your team", Niv continued, shaking his head a little at the slipshod blatancy of the encounter, "He was on the verge of throwing away the plan he and Patrick Rikers had been plotting. He was desperate after Rikers' first appeal had fallen through- I take it, I am only forwarding you the details, yes?"

A knowing smirk dropped from Ziva's lips onto the table. She tapped the beige folder with her index finger. Niv nodded.

"I offered my service. They had access, means…I had…savoir-faire", Niv explained plainly, "We transferred Claire to your cyber crime unit and constructed a new identity for Jane. Every part of the puzzle was set into place."

Ziva smiled. "You were always good at your history lessons."

"Details make us who we are, Ziva. For a long time I was a man without details in his life. I did not exist. You are a detail now. This room is a detail. I _am_ again."

"Now tell me something I _don't_ know", Ziva demanded coldly, cocking her head to the side for the slightest of effect.

Niv stared at her for a long time, then, "I killed your sister Talia."

Tony could see Ziva tense. Some things in Ziva's life were almost sacrosanct to her, and her little sister, who had died so long before her time at the age of 16, was certainly one of them. Tony was boiling inside, he wanted to storm in there and kick that guy's face in, wipe that serene nonchalance off with a few nicely punctuated blows. Suddenly, however, he could feel Gibbs' hand on his shoulder. Tony turned to look at the older agent and found him shaking his head.

"She can't-"

"She can", Gibbs rebuffed.

They both turned back to the ongoing interrogation and watched Ziva, sitting there, listening to Niv and seemingly unperturbed. It may have been an act, adopted for the sole sake of not giving Niv any kind of satisfaction. Or, Tony mused, it could have been a singular testament of just how much of her past Ziva had successfully put behind her. Sometimes it seemed that out of the two of them Tony was gnawing much longer on Ziva's past than she did herself.

"Saleem and his henchmen were just a means to obscure my trace", Niv continued, the look in his eyes softening, "I studied Tali's routines, I laid out the plan, I determined when and where. Saleem only provided me with a willing Hamas suicide bomber... I know you loved her-"

"Don't you dare talk about that love!", Ziva snarled, banging her uninjured hand on the desk so hard it made Niv jump. The shell was showing cracks, on both sides.

"It was months after my father's death. I acted rashly, I should have never-"

"Nim'as li!", Ziva growled, shoving the table towards Niv with such force that he had to push himself backwards to avoid painful impact, "You _knew_ her. You knew she never wanted _anything_ to do with our father's world."

"I was blind…but there was no turning back after that."

"_You_…could have turned back. You didn't", Ziva spat out distastefully.

"If you can sit there and look me in the eye…and _tell_ me that revenge has never blinded you before, that suspicion has never confounded you…", Niv countered slowly, "Then you have always been a better person than I am. If you _cannot_…you have simply found your way faster than I have."

Ziva was breathing heavily. She could feel the weight of Tali's untimely death pushing down on her labored health. He was right: She couldn't.

"Do you _even_- Do you still know why you did all that you did?", she asked finally, anger gone from her voice.

"No", he answered plainly, "And I have not for a long time."

"Then put a stop to it…", Ziva implored him, "Help us."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. On another day he had expected to lie on the ground, bleeding from a gasping wound by now. He wasn't. Instead, Ziva's tone was laden with harbingers of forgiveness - _of sorts_.

"Rikers and I selected and studied Corporal Kent and Sergeant Rivers. I had followed Chad Michaels for months, spiking his vitamins with depressants. I kidnapped him the day before I killed those Marines in front of their bar. I got Michaels to help dissect Kent because Rikers wanted an eyeball and the skull perfectly preserved. Meanwhile, Stills prepared the crime scene with the corpse of Sergeant Rivers and made sure your team investigated the murders. From then on I had two weeks to brainwash Michaels, so he would hit your car in what was supposed to look like suicide during a manic phase."

It seemed like the weight of the world was gradually trickling from Niv's shoulders. His blue eyes were stuck on Ziva's ambers.

"_You_ were the plan's Achilles' heel. You know _three_ of the people involved. We had to take you out and at the same time I would have gotten my revenge. Your husband would have returned from Spain, serving himself on a silver platter. And your accident would have thrown executives off the connection between your death and the deaths of those close to you."

"Deaths of those close to me… What deaths?", Ziva inquired, urgency creeping into her tone of voice.

* * *

_07:18 pm:_ **NCIS Headquarters - Abby's Lab**

Abby set the parameters and double-checked them again. The last tap of her index finger tossed a smile onto her face. Then she sighed. She tilted her head to the side, so she could look at the people occupying the adjacent room. An hour ago she had embarked on a quest for each and every pillow or blanket or whoopee cushion all around headquarters so as to pitch the most comfortable camp in the middle of her lab for Ziva and the kids. Abby knew how much Ziva hated staying behind and waiting, just waiting to hear any kind of news from the guys. Abby knew that feeling, but it must have been considerably harder, knowing that you could have been with them and helped them.

David and Tali at least kept her occupied, much occupied. Abby was aware that Ziva refused to expose the kids to the violent reality that could be theirs. Because of that she appeared oddly calm and composed. But Abby could tell. Her smiles were a little less radiant. Her eyes were a little too alert. Her mind was a little too out-there. And she knew, they both knew, that the kids could feel it too. Especially David seemed suspicious. After all, the situation was completely off. They were at the lab even though Ziva wasn't working, obviously. They hadn't been at school all day. And Abby herself had a hard time hiding that she was beyond nervous.

"Hey", Abby whispered, crouching down next to Ziva.

"Hey", Ziva responded absently, caressing Tali's dark curls. The little girl was just on the verge of drifting off. She was lying with her head in Ziva's lap. Meanwhile, David was drawing away at another one of his pictures at Abby's desk.

Abby studied Ziva's loving gaze, watching her daughter sleep and couldn't help but smile despite it all. "What's that?", she asked suddenly, pointing at a picture Ziva was clutching with her free hand.

The picture showed a dark, brown-black mass and an oblong blue object protruding from its centre. A dashed someone was standing to the side, evidently watching the mass swallowing or disgorging the blue object. Small, light blue flecks were springing from its large eyes. There was nothing else on it.

Ziva finally tore her eyes away from her daughter and followed Abby's line of vision. "David drew it", Ziva explained quietly and looked over at her son, who seemed oblivious to their conversation, "It shows my accident…and him watching it."

"Oh…"

"He has been drawing pictures of my accident or the hospital for days. And I do not even want to guess what the black-blue matter in each of them stands for", Ziva continued sadly.

If possible David had grown even quieter over the few days of her coma. She hated that her injuries and the case were keeping her from him, keeping her from helping him deal with what had happened. In a way she was glad he was trying to deal with it _some_how on his own through his drawings, but it didn't have to be that way. She was his mother. She felt responsible for all that had happened, she damn well was supposed to comfort her son through its aftermath.

"You're not at all responsible for any of this, you know that, right?", Abby declared suddenly as if she had read her best friend's mind.

"You sound like Tony."

"Hate to say it, but he's right, you know", Abby continued lightly, drawing a minuscule smile onto Ziva's face.

"Niv was a ghost from my past. _My_ past, Abby", Ziva retorted, turning her blazing brown eyes to meet Abby's, "None of this would have happened if they didn't have a Mossad assassin for a mother."

"You're right, _none_ of this would have happened to them, 'cause they wouldn't even exist", Abby countered emphatically, "I mean, how can you even say that? Tim and I have been trying to have a child for years… And _you_ have two of the most adorable kids in the _world_ and you're not sure they're _supposed_ to be? Because you're not perfect? Because you weren't a saint before you had them? Well, _newsflash_: You were damn well _destined_ to procreate with that italo-hubby of yours. And if you think you weren't meant to be a mother, then you should see yourself with them."

Ziva looked down at Tali again.

"They'll get through this. We all will. And we'll have a little family-addition to help us celebrate."

Abby started grinning, waiting for her words to sink into Ziva's system. When they did, Ziva's eyes shot up at her. They were wide but smiling. A matching grin had settled in what had been a grim expression just a few minutes ago.

"You- You… You got-", Ziva started cryptically, punctuating every word with a small laugh.

Abby nodded enthusiastically. Before she could say another word, however, McGee's voice was carried in from one of the computers in the other room at full volume, "Abby!"

Both women's heads shot up.

* * *

_0__7:32 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

McGee had been trying to attract Abby's attention through his PDA for the past ten minutes. Even though she had specifically assured him - _and_ Gibbs - that she would be like the _Queen's Guard_ and not budge from her post in front of the computer until McGee called for her services. Well, did _not_ - obviously. He was sitting in the backseat of an NCIS car, Tony and Gibbs in front of him. Tony cleared his throat.

In a last, full-blown attempt McGee yelled into the speaker, "Abby!"

Instantly, indistinct clatter could be heard approaching the other end and within seconds Abby's face turned up on McGee's display. "Hold your wig, Timmy. I'm right here", Abby exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"Like ten minutes ago", he huffed.

"Funny, I remember you saying that yesterday in bed", Abby deadpanned.

McGee couldn't see it, but Tony was trying hard to stifle his laughter and even Gibbs was turning his head to the side and out of the window in order to hide his smirk.

McGee tried playing it cool anyway. "We should be in a close enough range now. The scan?"

"Sure, McMine." She smiled and started typing away at her keyboard. They waited another five minutes, then finally, "Results say you should be fine."

"Borderline amplitudes?"

"None that matter."

"Okay, thanks, Abs."

McGee was about to hang up but could see in Abby's face that she wasn't ready yet. So, he waited. He looked into her eyes by virtue of virtuality and shot her a gentle smile, which she returned.

"Be careful."

"Will be." Then he really hung up.

"What's the verdict?", Tony asked from the front seat.

"According to Abby's assessment we're clear."

"Good."

"But, boss, this _really_ is just a superficial threat assessment. The sensors on the hood are a simple form of data triangulation as per a device set of seismographic, thermal and photosensitive tests. But they _only_ capture those kinds of data. Nothing more", McGee cautioned.

"You've been saying that since we left the Navy Yard, McNatter", Tony groaned.

"They could easily falsify the results. Knowing that Agent Wheeler furnished information, it's very likely they know _exactly_ what kind of methods we can resort to, Tony."

"We have it, we use it", Gibbs stated plainly and opened the door.

McGee quickly glanced at Tony. He seemed unusually absentminded and McGee knew exactly why. Knowing that he could be a father soon made him almost feel the same way. But they couldn't let their minds go there. They couldn't afford to have the risk they were taking at the forefront of their minds every time they went into the field.

Thus, McGee opted for the subtle method of friendly retrieve. "Would you stop sulking already, DiNozzo", he called out in his best act of aggravation.

Tony immediately came out of his stupor. "What do you want? You have those fancy threat-sensor-thingies. Would have come in handy more than once back in Spain. This is like hierarchy by distance or something."

"Then get your ass back to Washington", Gibbs asserted soberly before getting out of the car.

McGee left a small smile back in the car before he got out as well. Tony hesitated for a second - then followed suit. They cautiously approached the warehouse in front of them. Its weathered brick walls were merging almost seamlessly with the dark of the night. Specks of metallic silver on the rolling gate were sparkling in the glow of the streetlight. An old bronze plague on the side of the building read _'Chester Street', _a matching one above the steel door was imprinted with the number _'51'_.

"Perimeter", Gibbs called out to his agents.

McGee and Tony each moved to one side of the building while Gibbs went straight for the door. There was no backup following them. Gibbs tried the door, finding it unlocked. A few minutes later the two men returned, both nodding their heads. There were neither any side entrances nor was there anything suspicious thus far. Tony pressed his body against the brick surface. Gibbs reached for the handle of the door. He nodded. Tony returned his gesture while McGee took a stand right behind his partner.

Gibbs pushed the door open and Tony, McGee hot on his trail, stormed the warehouse. Gibbs followed. It was pitch black. They each turned their heads in different directions so as to cover the biggest possible visual field.

The moment Tony and McGee switched on the flashlights in their hands a shot rang through the emptiness of the warehouse hall. They whirled around immediately to scan the perimeter for its source when their eyes fell on Gibbs' body lying on the ground.

McGee was the first to notice their boss. "Tony-"

Before he could finish, however, another shot tore through the agonizing silence and McGee's body tumbled to the floor, releasing a wave of dust. Tony turned in time to inhale the polluted surge of air, coughing through the first onslaught of shock rocking his insides.

He opened his mouth. No sound came. Then a third shot blared. Another gush of dust welled up. The hall fell silent again.

* * *

**...TO BE CONTINUED...**


	29. Raising the Sun

**I know**, it was quite the evil cliffhanger, a long-term phoof for lack of a better description. This is the penultimate chapter, dénouement all over the place. Usual rep: I'm most appreciative of the fervent response to the last chapter - time stamps, never forget the TIME STAMPS - let me know what you think!

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**LunaZola: **Actually, thank you for noticing :) In a way it's a convenience thing but a very meaningful one at that. The way they don't object to being called "husband" and "wife" and the way they refer to themselves as such makes it all the more poignant that they regard their relationship as what a marriage might essentially stand for, for a life-long bond, love and commitment - they just don't necessarily need some kind of administration to tell them that. I guess, if you go back to those moments when - for instance - Tony refers to Ziva as his "wife", you will find it to be a very emotional moment (for him). So, no...I didn't change my mind - just chewed it up and spit it out sensibly.**_

* * *

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_LAST CHAPTER..._

07:58 pm: _**51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**_

_Tony and McGee whirled around immediately to scan the perimeter for its source when their eyes fell on Gibbs' body lying on the ground._

_McGee was the first to notice their boss. "Tony-"_

_Before he could finish, however, another shot tore through the agonizing silence and McGee's body tumbled to the floor, loosening a wave of dust. Tony turned in time to inhale the polluted surge of air, coughing through the first onslaught of shock rocking his insides._

_He opened his mouth. No sound came. Then a third shot blared. Another gush of dust welled up. The hall fell silent again._

**Chap 29 Gradual Summit - ACT IV  
**_or: __Raising the Sun_

_Friday, November 22__nd__ 2018_

_05:11 pm:_ **716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"Off guard and from a distance", Niv declared cryptically.

While Gibbs' blue eyes narrowed in the adjacent observation room, Ziva answered at once, "A sniper's way of killing."

"Exactly."

"That address-"

"They will be waiting."

"Stills was a Marine Sniper."

"Amazing, the capacities of the new Barretts. Night vision attachments, special coating", Niv stated calmly, not once taking his eyes off of Ziva, "You and your Agent Gibbs should be able to relate to that amazement."

Behind her Tony turned to look at Gibbs. His boss didn't even flinch, nor did Ziva.

"They will ambush them."

"Yes."

"They will kill them."

"Not exactly…no", Niv retorted slowly, leaning forward in his chair, "You and I both know that immediate death is not to be feared… Revenge is exerted at its cruelest when death is but the only relief."

* * *

_08:23 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

"I knew you would take this personally, Jethro. I knew you would come alone", Rikers smiled, looking into Gibbs' re-opening, blazing blue eyes.

Gibbs squinted from the searing pain in his shoulder, but looking down he couldn't find a reason for it. He tried turning around but his arms and legs were bound. He, McGee and Tony were seated in a perfect triangle of chairs. For a second he caught a glimpse of McGee's face, the younger agent's eyes were closed, his head sunken forward.

"Don't worry, they're alive…_for now_", Rikers sneered.

Just now did Gibbs notice the gun in Rikers' hand. But it wasn't pointed at him. Rikers was holding it to McGee's head. Gibbs turned to his other side to find Tony, bound and unconscious, held at gunpoint by someone who looked like Theodore Stills. A rush of pain shot through Gibbs' head. He squinted again.

"What do you want, Rikers?"

"Isn't that obvious, Jethro?", Rikers' seething green eyes descended to meet Gibbs' eye level, "Revenge."

Rikers smirked. For a moment he was silent. The only sound was a woman, Jane Mill, carefully confiscating the agents' SIGs and packing them into separate, labeled plastic bags along with their bulletproof vests. She was even wearing latex gloves. She didn't, however, look very comfortable handling guns.

Rikers followed Gibbs' line of vision. "Don't even think about it", he called out and re-attracted Gibbs' attention, "I also know where you keep your backups."

Gibbs smiled crookedly. "Could've killed us and got it over with."

"Killing you doesn't cut it, Jethro. We want to destroy you and your lives like you lot destroyed ours."

* * *

_05:25 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"Tranquilizer darts", Niv stated artlessly upon Ziva's questioning gaze, "You know that I have always been quite the capable herbologist."

"Hardly." Ziva cocked an eyebrow.

"Do you not find it fascinating that there are substances which can paralyze the body without leaving any traces?", Niv rhapsodized, his blue eyes widening.

"Now, that sounds more _like_ you."

A small smile tugged at Niv's lips before he briefly looked away as if he was seeing someone standing in the corner, watching them. "You remember Amichai?", he asked suddenly.

Ziva scoffed. "Vadai, beVadai."

"His services have always had a price and that has not changed", Niv explained, turning back to look at her, "Capillary arrowheads, almost undetectable if you do not specifically look for it."

* * *

_08:46 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

"Yeah?", Gibbs retorted carelessly, trying to lean back comfortably in his chair, "Any plans for that one?"

Rikers scoffed. "You haven't changed one bit, have you, you bastard?"

Gibbs pressed his lips together in a thin almost-smile and cocked his head to the side, "Nope."

At once Rikers lifted his arm and struck the side of Gibbs' face with the butt of his gun. Gibbs stifled a groan. He could feel warm blood oozing from a chip in his lip. The blow had thrust his body against Tony, whose eyes snatched open instantly. The younger agent was breathing heavily, trying to take in his surroundings, trying to make sense of what was going on. On Gibbs' other side McGee was slowly coming out of it as well, his eyelids fluttering endlessly.

"Finally", Stills exclaimed, aiming a kick against Tony's shin and causing the agent to sit up straight in muffled pain, "We already thought you'd die on us before we could kill ya."

"And just in time for _Show and Tell_", Rikers smirked at McGee, who had eventually regained full consciousness.

"Where are we?", McGee pressed out, turning around to find his partner and boss bound and staring defiantly at their tantalizers.

"Hell's antechamber, thank you very much", Tony cracked, receiving another blow to his shin he sucked up without a sound.

"Jane!", Rikers called over to the woman who jumped forward immediately, "Wanna go first?"

She nodded eagerly.

* * *

_05:34 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"You know what I always admired about my wife?", Niv induced with a certain romanticized edge to his voice, "I always admired how she could be the most loving mother and at the same time be so adept at handling unanimated objects, computers, processors..."

"I know someone like that as well", Ziva smiled, her look quickly dropping to the table.

"It is easier for them. People do not baselessly consider them inhumane just because they can work inhumane processes. _We_, however, the _two_ of us…the ones _like_ us… People consider us cold-blooded killers because we were trained to protect our country from any threat", Niv mused somberly, "Why is that, you think?"

"Failures, precedents, reputation… Fear", Ziva answered slowly.

"They are right…in a _way_, are they not?"

"Are they?"

"Well, we would not have loved and lost if they were right…but we would not be sitting here if they were wrong."

"Balance and overflow."

"It is what we choose, yes?"

A soft laugh dripped from Ziva's lips. She thought of Tony watching her, of how much she loved him, of how much faith he had always had in her despite her past. She thought of Gibbs, who had seen the good in her and taken a leap of faith in trusting her within the first 24 hours of their acquaintance. Ziva thought of Abby and McGee who had never once voiced any doubt they might have harbored - not after the first few steps at least. Ziva wasn't easy to get to know, but they had been fierce in getting to know her. She thought of her children, David and Tali. She was a mother. _And still…_ A part of her was that ruthless assassin Niv kept referring to, wasn't it?

"Ms. Sciuto is supposed to suffer the worst fate of you all…_surviving_ you all", Niv started, changing the subject in given urgency, "I guess, for someone who so ferociously holds onto her family, losing all of you is worse than death."

Ziva couldn't help but notice the emotion woven through Niv's account. Still, his somber proclamation caused shivers to run down her spine. Behind her Tony watched Gibbs silently clenching his fist.

"A few days ago a message, planted by Claire, lead your husband to Laudel Emmet Street", Niv continued.

Ziva's eyes shot open a little. Tony hadn't mentioned that. In the observation room Gibbs turned to his Senior Field Agent only to find Tony affirming Niv's statement with a sudden jolt of a nod.

"What he thought would be some kind of secret meeting turned out a mystery to him, but really it was a trap", Niv explained, "The bloodstain he found and collected was _my_ blood. He was even gracious enough to spit out his gum on site. He took the blood sample back to Ms. Sciuto, where a staged system crash was causing a delay of work for her, so she sent Agent McGee to file the sample. And Agent McGee gave the sample to Claire, not waiting for her to sign the log."

"And how exactly does a chain of coincidental events fit into your master plan?"

"Yes, there was luck involved, but nothing about this plan was left to coincidence", Niv objected knowingly, "You see, Ms. Sciuto is not only supposed to lose her family…but also her beautiful mind. A different version of what _you_ call _coincidental_ _events_ reads like this: After your husband found out about our affair, he went after me, setting me up for a meeting on Laudel Emmet Street, where he beat me up, thus leaving traces of my blood and his DNA behind. After that encounter, I disappeared. To cover his own tracks, ever the Cop, he collected the evidence himself and brought it back to the NCIS lab. Coincidentally, Agent Wheeler was repairing a system's failure at that time and overheard Agent McGee and Ms. Sciuto talking. She couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but they were mentioning Agent DiNozzo a lot. Then she saw them tampering with the sample. Eventually, the sample would have been found contaminated and Agent McGee's and Ms. Sciuto's name would have been the last and only ones listed on the evidence log."

"This is crazy", Ziva exclaimed at once, "That is all circumstantial evidence. Nobody would ever believe that Abby would be capable of contaminating evidence."

"Not even to cover for a beloved friend and colleague?"

At that moment of agonizing truth Gibbs remembered an encounter from eight years ago when the Reynosa Cartel had exhumed Pedro Hernandez' body of revenge from the grave Gibbs had put him in - and everything that came with it. Gibbs remembered what the evidence of his own liability had caused in Abby. How much it had hurt her. How much it had confused her. Niv was right. Abby would be capable of contaminating evidence because no matter how much she loved her job, she loved her family more.

"_I owe you everything. You're Gibbs. No one needs to know the truth about the Hernandez investigation. I am willing to do anything for you.  
I just need you to tell me what to do."_

"Lesser proof has ruined careers before", Niv declared, raising his eyebrows, "And lingering _doubt_…is an excruciating thing."

Ziva opened her mouth to speak but no viable objection came. Instead, a seemingly throwaway detail re-invaded her mind. "_Our_ affair?", she cried out in disbelief.

An equally disbelieving laugh got stuck in Niv's throat. "A nice touch, yes?"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to notice Tony's fists clenching.

* * *

_08:57 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

"Nice, perfect, everybody's darling Abby will suffer from losing you all", Jane whispered, stepping closer to the three men.

McGee couldn't help biting down on his lip so hard he could feel blood tickling into his cavity. He wouldn't give any of them the satisfaction of his fury.

"Thanks to _your_ sloppy arrogance-" She closed in on Tony and pressed down on the part of his shoulder where the dart had torn a diminutive, still inflamed puncture. He winced voicelessly.

"And thanks to _your_ carelessness-" She turned towards McGee, repeating the process of pain. It caused the younger agent only to bite down even harder on his lip, finally tearing off flaps of skin.

"-she'll not only lose everyone she loves, though, she'll also lose her job, her ever so pristine record. She'll know what it's like to lose absolutely _everything_", Jane ended gravelly, a smear smile dancing on her face. Her hair was jumping a little from her inner giddiness.

Gibbs kept staring straight ahead.

* * *

_05:56 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"I am not even sure your Agent DiNozzo is aware of this himself, but losing you to another man might just send him over the edge..._believably_", Niv explained.

For Ziva this interrogation had suddenly taken a distinct turn into the direction of psychological profiling of everybody but Niv Peled. That wasn't true, of course. The way Niv had changed his tone of voice from callous itemizing to thoughtful explanation was rather obvious.

"It plays too much into his own sense of insecurity...of inadequacy."

Ziva's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How do you know so much about us?"

"_I_...do not", Niv declared, shaking his head a little, "I only know _you_, Ziva. It is Patrick Rikers who has put his time in prison to the use of studying each and everyone on Agent Gibbs' team."

"Quite a way to pass the time."

"Others build boats."

Ziva smiled faintly, causing Niv to do the same. His demeanor shifted. "It was only the backup plan."

"What was?"

"The affair as a credible reason for Agent DiNozzo to slaughter his wife and children before committing suicide."

A lump formed in Ziva's throat. She had been confronted with many a violent truth in her life, but the planned murder of her soulmate and her kids was almost too much to bear. She had a hard time keeping up her act of composure. She started feeling sick. Her chest hurt. Searing shots of pain rang through her head. Then suddenly-

"Your gun was not loaded."

"No", Niv admitted quietly.

"Were you not- not planning to go through-"

"No."

Ziva stared at him, her eyes narrowed to inquisitive slits. "Why?"

Niv straightened up. "Because it is _one_ crime to kill out of revenge, but _another_…to kill innocent children just because they stand in the way."

A pause. Images flared for both of them.

"No one would have believed you anyway, you know", Ziva asserted defiantly.

"It would have been harder to set up, yes. The initial plan of staging his suicide after your accident would have been an easier feat", Niv clarified sullenly, "But there was convincing evidence. Claire has access to the personnel logs of NCIS. The registered serial number of his gun matches the one I was supposed to kill you with. Fingerprints…"

Niv's account sounded much more like an unbelievable, faraway illusion than a definite plan now.

"And Mossad?"

A slack smile formed on Niv's face. "My identity uncovered, yes? Well… If they had found me, the story of your husband's maniacal revenge would have been all the _more_ credible…"

In the observation room Tony swallowed hard. Suddenly, he could feel Gibbs hand on his shoulder.

* * *

_0__9:05 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

"Tony, Tony, Tony…", Rikers slurred mock-sweetly, tapping the back of Tony's head with his fingers, "Suicide is a mortal sin, you know?"

"No kidding", Tony retorted, receiving a fervent gun-stroke from Stills to his head.

He groaned, blood gathering in his cavity.

"After you find out that your wife had an affair with a former Mossad operative, you will be found having committed suicide", Rikers explicated voicelessly, his green eyes sparkling in the darkness, "-_after_ you slaughtered your entire family, which by the looks of it…is happening… Right. _Now_."

Tony couldn't help it. The fury and agony he had felt ever since hearing about that particular detail in the plan suddenly surfaced. He started tearing and pulling at the rope around his extremities, pressing his jaws together so feverishly that his gums started hurting.

"Relax", Stills sneered, grabbing a violent hold of Tony's throat.

Tony gagged.

"Get a grip, DiNozzo", Gibbs blurted out, unable to keep silent any longer.

"Ah", Rikers called out in a delighted sing-song-y voice, "Always the protector, eh? Tell me, Jethro, from an insider's point of view: Were you born that way or are you just overcompensating because Shannon and Kelly croaked it and you weren't there?"

A sudden jolt went through Gibbs' body, but he didn't answer. Instead, he straightened up and resumed sitting there, silently.

* * *

_0__6:09 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"You know… I understand why you might have been drawn to your Agent Gibbs", Niv mused, "He reminds me a lot of _my_ father."

"He does?"

"Yes… Never an easy man to understand but always true. It's the pedestal we lift them on, because we need to believe that for all the flaws in those around us there must be some kind of perfection equalizing the score."

Gibbs certainly wasn't perfect, not to Ziva. His vices, however, made him all the more accessible. For most of her youth she had set the default on perfection for her own father, but she had ultimately come to realize that in order to live her life and not be restrained by her own past she had to let go of that idealized perception. Nevertheless, she knew what Niv was talking about. That pedestal was her mother's. Eliana David, for Ziva, stood high up on an idealized pedestal.

"For once we want to be protected and not have to protect ourselves", Niv continued, almost urging Ziva to agree with him, "When you lose that, a lot of yourself is lost as well."

"Gideon never wanted to become Director of Mossad, did he?"

"No", Niv admitted painfully, "He only ever needed to trust the one who was. He never claimed it for himself."

"He should have never challenged Eli then", Ziva put in defiantly.

"Pride", Niv laughed hollowly, "A…_pissing match_ they call it, yes?"

Ziva nodded with a small smile, her eyes diverting to the table for a second. "Threats need to be neutralized at any cost. The only consequence is one threat less to our lives", she recited monotonously before she looked back up to find Niv nodding his head.

"Our upbringing, our fathers' upbringing…the upbringing of our forefathers. We can only hope for our children to have the luxury of patience."

* * *

_0__9:18 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

Rikers turned around and reached into a bag behind him, producing a somewhat dusty, half full bottle of Bourbon. Still holding the gun to McGee's head, he held the bottle out in front of Gibbs' face. Gibbs took a quick, dismissive glance at it before he concentrated back on a particularly black stain on the opposite wall.

"Recognize this?", Rikers asked derisively.

Gibbs merely tossed his head upwards a little, giving the faint impression of an indifferent nod.

"_Your_ bottle of Bourbon…from _your_ basement", Rikers clarified, "And I guess with a lot of your fingerprints, too."

Just now Gibbs realized that Rikers' hands were clad in latex gloves as well.

Rikers pulled the bottle towards his chest, almost cradling its neck against the hollow of his throat. "I remember it…_clearly_… That day NCIS Agents turned up at my door and arrested me for the alleged murder of Petty Officer Hamm. I remember the feeling of the handcuffs around my wrists, I remember the stench of onion and garlic on their breaths, I remember the shirt I was wearing…I even remember the show I was watching before I answered the door", he purred, stepping so close to the triangle of chairs that his leg was grazing Gibbs' upper arm, "But do you know what I remember more _clearly_…than anything else?"

A million alternative answers shot through Tony's mind all at once, but seeing as he was already bleeding and had a massive headache coming on, he resisted the urge to ridicule Rikers' romanticized account.

Gibbs kept absolutely quiet.

"You don't? I'll tell you then", Rikers continued quickly, "I remember what that agent said to me while he was hauling me off. He- He said, _'Didn't think that anyone could get inside you head, did you?'_ You got inside my head, Jethro. You knew what I had killed Hamm for, that I'd kill for the love of my life. _You_…got inside my head. _You_…seduced my brain. You-"

Still, Gibbs didn't say a word.

Rikers' free hand shot forward, gripped Gibbs' head from the side and pulled his face up towards his own. "But I got inside your head now, Jethro."

With a grin he let go of Gibbs again and reached back into his bag. This time he produced two syringes. "I know you're not scared of death, but I know…I _know _what is worse for you: Dying without honor and taking one of your protégés with you", Rikers sneered, alternating his gaze between McGee and the back of Gibbs' head now, "Thanks to our friend, a highly gifted noiseless torturer, your life will end as follows: You, dear Jethro, and your Agent McGee will be found dead in the river after a car accident. Drowned. But oh…how? _How_…did you end up there? But what's that? Sky-high alcohol levels in Agent Gibbs' blood!"

Gibbs didn't even move a muscle and McGee tried hard not to look too dazed by the violent description of his own death. Gibbs' impassiveness certainly wasn't the reaction Rikers had intended to receive. His blood started boiling. He raised his arm again and struck Gibbs' head once more with the hand holding the syringes.

Through his inner fury he sneered, "That good enough for you, Gibbs? Dying in a car accident, just like Shannon and Kelly did. You should feel right at home."

Tony and McGee jumped simultaneously in surprise and inflicted paralysis. For a moment Gibbs kept his head down while he tried regaining all of his senses. When he straightened back up, he spat out the blood that had formed a pool in his mouth. Still, though, his faint cough remained the only sound throughout the massive warehouse hall.

* * *

_0__6:21 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"In the end…it would not have mattered", Niv declared cautiously, "It would not have mattered if anyone had believed your husband to have slain his entire family. If anyone had believed Ms. Sciuto and Agent McGee to have tampered with evidence to protect their friend. If anyone had believed Agent Gibbs to have gotten himself and his agent recklessly killed in a car accident. You would have been dead. Ms. Sciuto would have been ruined. We would have had our revenge."

In all her life Ziva had seen some of the cruelest atrocities and she was by far no tabula rasa when it came to acts of conviction that ended that same way. But she was a different person now. Niv's account of potential deaths was almost harder to bear. Maybe she should have been furious, but Niv wasn't inducing any anger in her - not anymore. Yes, the truth about Tali's death was lingering heavily within her, but that had nothing to do with Niv or Niv's part in it. Ziva had never worked through that particular part of her past and now she found herself confronted with it once again.

Niv wasn't looking at her. Her features relaxed. "When did you decide not to go through with it?"

"I think I had been fighting my own convictions for a long time, but there was no turning back. There are things from which you cannot walk away, commitments that are more than just leisure accords with oneself", Niv revealed sincerely, "I know _you_ more than anyone can understand that."

Ziva finally leaned forward, ever so carefully, and rested her lower arms on the table. The file almost vanished from sight beneath them. "When did you break?"

"When you survived the accident", he admitted simply, "There is life, there is choices…and then there is fate. I realized that your life has touched the lives of so many…and not just mine because you were not born to a different father." He gave her a small smile.

"You could have had the same", Ziva said quietly.

"That is choices."

"I was lucky."

"Who is to tell the difference between luck and fate?"

Ziva smiled a little.

"What was it for you?", he inquired suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Ziva's eyebrows rose.

"What made you challenge fate?"

A faint laugh trickled from her lips. "Penance in the desert."

Niv arched an inquisitive eyebrow but didn't press further. Ziva was aware that only one other person knew exactly what she was talking about and really, behind the glass front a knowing smile settled on Tony's lips and tension released his shoulders.

Niv's expression turned contemplative. "Tell me, Ziva, did they raise us wrong? Raise us to avenge unjustified murder. Raise us to value loyalty above our own lives. Was it wrong? Was it wrong to raise us to become…_us_?"

Ziva couldn't hear Tony scoff, couldn't see him nodding his head more adamantly than he had in almost two hours. Though, he should have known that nothing was that easy, that Ziva would never join in on his most explicit opinions - not when it came to who she was, who they were. He had to stifle a laugh, he could hear her voice in his head.

"We are too complex for solid answers", Tony whispered, causing Gibbs to glance over at him. A certified DiNozzo-grin elaborated on his face as he nodded towards the pair in the interrogation room.

"If we knew what is wrong, we would know what is right", Ziva dodged consciously, "We are too _complex_…for solid answers."

Gibbs smiled.

"Would you raise your children like that then?", Niv pressed on, having turned into an alley of truth that was only peripherally linked to their case anymore.

"No", Ziva declared instantaneously, "But I have a different understanding of right and wrong than my father does. They are…different _times_ as well."

Niv sighed. "I guess they are… They are…"

"I swore to protect my sister. I swore to protect Tali…and I couldn't. I could not save her, but I will not make that same mistake again."

"It was not up to you to save her."

"Yes, it was."

"You had no chance. You could have never saved her."

"It does not matter that I couldn't have", Ziva clarified benevolently, a knowing smile playing on her lips, "Someone I trust deeply told me once- He told me that you do what you can. But in order to know what you can do, you sometimes must strive to do what you _cannot_ do."

As if he was just experiencing an odd moment of clarity, Niv's eyes widened at first and then settled down. The sapphire blue in them regained its serene darkness and his disheveled mat of black hair suddenly looked impishly unruly instead of defiant.

"Ani mitzta'er, Ziva. I _am_…sorry."

"Ani yoda'at." _I know._

* * *

_0__9:39 pm:_ **51 Chester Street - Abandoned Warehouse**

"Guys, I gotta tell you, _I_…", Tony started, drawing out the ego-phrase while Stills was striding dangerously closer to his chair, "-_like_ what you're doing here. No, really."

"Movie-God Almighty, no…", McGee groaned voicelessly on the other side.

Rikers looked over immediately, holding Stills back from hitting Tony again with just a slight nod of his head.

"Really…this movie mélange magnifique you have going here. It's really avant-garde with a little splash of retro, you know. I mean, we were _so_ over those '_Catch me if you can'_-variations. I really thought: Man! It's the indie-decades", Tony's voice leveled to a serene-serious undertone and climbed to the height of enthusiastic squealing within nano-seconds of speed-talking, "But you. Brought it all back! _The Maltese Falcon, The Killing_, _Ocean's 11_, an inkling of _The Italian Job_, a drop of _Ladykillers_…the originals per-_cine_… I could go on, I can tell ya. It's great. Awesome. Hands down, it's awesome. A little Kaufman-esque eccentricity... You got it all!"

Rikers and Stills, even Jane Mill lingering in a corner of the hall, seemed staggered by the wrenching enormity of Tony's sudden monologue. They were looking at him as if frozen in stupor, waiting for what was to come next.

Tony suddenly caught Stills' eyes, beckoning the older man towards him with a few cumbersome jolts of his head. When Stills was close enough, Tony's expression solidified in utter seriousness.

"You just made…a single mistake", Tony proclaimed colorlessly.

Stills straightened back up. Tony was smiling at him.

Rikers couldn't take that strangely bizarre turn of events anymore and stepped over, taking a stand in front of Tony, right next to Stills. He seemed curious and infuriated at the same time.

Rikers scoffed, "Yeah, what's that, smart-ass?"

"You sent a father to kill my kids, bastard!"

At that same moment Tony leapt forward, taking the chair he was bound to along with him. Gibbs followed his lead and threw himself to the side. By sheer force of impact Tony knocked Stills off his feet, landing on top of him with the added weight of the chair. The gun slipped from Stills' hand and slid across the floor. Gibbs hit Rikers on his way down. For a moment he threw Rikers off balance. It was enough to keep him from using the gun in his hand.

And it was enough for McGee to yell, "Drop your weapon!"

Before Stills could push Tony off of him, before Rikers could regain enough focus to act and before Mill could gather enough courage to intervene, the warehouse was stormed by heavily armed NCIS Agents and Metro PD Officers alike. Everything happened so fast. At once various men were disarming and handcuffing both Rikers and Stills while Jane surrendered willingly. Others stepped in to lift Tony and Gibbs back up and cut all three agents loose. Within the next ten minutes the warehouse they had spent some two hours in was completely vacant. No sound remained.

Outside an abundance of police cars and ambulances was dipping the darkness of the night in flashes of blue. Gibbs was crossing the street - unbound, free, alive. He had just briefed the squad leader on what had happened inside and thanked her for sticking to the initial plan: '_Let them confess and wait till you can't wait any longer.'_ On his way he passed the police car Patrick Rikers was being shoved into.

"You changed, Jethro. You sodden son of a bitch! You changed!", Rikers screamed after him, fighting against two agents in desperate vain. When they closed the car door behind him, his voice vanished.

Gibbs passed him by without looking.

On the other side of the street, near an ambulance, he came to a halt. Tony and McGee had just gotten their various blemishes treated.

"Looks like we created ourselves one _Jigsaw_ beyond return right there, huh boss?", Tony cracked, his eyes widening and his head jerking slightly for emphasis.

"Yeah, lucky for us Peled gave it all away before we went in there without backup", McGee declared, relief quite noticeably cutting through his composure.

"Sold their asses."

"Saved ours", Gibbs put in.

Tony raised his eyebrows for a second. Then, in a much deeper voice and with his mouth half-open as if a cigar was dripping from his lips, he growled, "Ah… I love it when a plan comes together."

"But we wouldn't have gone in there without backup anyway…even if Niv hadn't tipped us off- Right, boss?", McGee asked, his solid assurance slipping.

Gibbs just smirked and walked off into the direction of their car without saying anything.

* * *

_10__:46 pm: _**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

"The kids?", McGee inquired delicately.

He was leaning against Tony's desk in the bullpen, Abby right next to him.

She and Ziva had, of course, been kept in the loop on Gibbs' big-boy gameplay with Rikers, but that hadn't stopped them from crawling out of their skin with worry. Even though Ziva had been careful not to show too much of her anxiety around the kids, they had felt it. It had taken her an hour to get them both to sleep. When they had finally received the okay-call from Tony, it had been more than relief washing over them: An Odyssey of two and a half weeks was coming to an end - and a pretty good one at that. Gibbs and Tony had been ordered to meet Ziva, Vance and Niv up in the conference room after preliminary arrangements had been accorded. And Abby hadn't left McGee's side ever since the guys had returned.

"Vance's office, hopefully sleeping through all of this craziness," Abby declared.

They were both locking eyes with the opposite wall, but their hands were entwined in silent intimacy. His left shoulder was still throbbing from the toxin.

"Urgh…sleeping", McGee sighed, inching a little farther to the side and putting his head on Abby's shoulder.

Abby was still lost in thought. She couldn't believe how hard it was to make sense of everything that had happened. Everything seemed so…_coincidental_, for lack of a better word. It ended well, though, so that wasn't supposed to be bothering her, right? When soft snoring started cutting through the missing buzz of the squadroom, Abby couldn't believe her ears. Still, a small smile jumped onto her face…for a second. Then she gently wiggled her shoulder.

McGee stirred.

"Don't you go to sleep on me, Tim."

"Why not?", he mumbled drowsily.

"Because I need to talk to you. I need to…to make… I donno, _sense_, I guess. This doesn't make _sense_", she exclaimed vaguely, her gaze alternating between the far wall and his head on her shoulder.

"What doesn't?", he asked, straightening back up for conversation's sake and blinking rapidly against his own exhaustion.

"That's it? Wheeler gets a deal. Niv gets a deal. And that's that? I mean, he's just gonna walk? He tried to kill you, Timmy. God, he held a gun to Ziva's head!"

"Wasn't the first one, though."

"That's not funny, Tim."

"Look, the point is, he didn't kill Ziva, nor did he kill any of us. The _others_…Rikers, Stills, Mill… They were at that warehouse while he was _here_, giving away their plan and pretty much saving our butts", McGee clarified plainly, softly squeezing her hand.

"But he killed _two_ Marines. He kidnapped that Michaels guy and- and he set up Ziva's murder. It doesn't get much worse than that", Abby insisted.

"He _will_ be charged with all that, but under extenuating circumstances and under a different alias", McGee retorted evenly, his face breaking out into a small smile upon Abby's persistent pout, "I get your point, I really do. For what he did…and what he _almost_ did- He doesn't much deserve _any_thing, but that's none of our business. That's the boss-works."

"All that for a criminal."

"After all this upheaval for the cause of _revenge_", Ducky cautioned, turning up beside the pair, "Do you not think it ill-advised to seek revenge for what he could have potentially done? He will get the punishment for his bad deeds, but shouldn't we always reward the good deeds just as costly?"

"But didn't you hear what he did to Ziva's family…to her _sister_?", Abby cut in.

"Still, I don't see Ziva cheering before the Guillotine."

"Right, what about that?", McGee scowled, "Shouldn't she be…kinda more pissed than she is?"

Ducky smiled knowingly. "I do _not_ believe Mr. Peled to have been a test for Ziva's composure rather than her forgiveness, really."

They suddenly fell silent upon the familiar ding of the elevator doors and watched as Niv, Gibbs and Vance as well as Tony with his arm around Ziva's waist turned up behind the orange partition walls next to McGee's desk - his old one, his new one. Ziva looked pensive but serene. She and Tony shot a quick glance into the direction of their friends and colleagues.

Abby eyed Niv suspiciously. "Doesn't change the fact he murdered Rivers and Kent in cold blood", she whispered.

"Trained to do so by those who planted the seed of revenge within him", Ducky mused, a soft sigh ringing through.

Abby bit her bottom lip. "Sent us another Ari, huh?"

"One who didn't get to fully execute his plan this time and will be held responsible for what he did…_some_ of what he did", McGee said.

Ducky nodded. "And hopefully the last one."

* * *

At the same time only a few feet away Vance caught Niv up on the details.

"Your wife and son are waiting down in the lobby. Two Agents will accompany you to the safe house, where a team of federal logisticians will take care of the rest. You will be assigned to a branch of the witness protection program. They work with our cyber unit to create a deep enough cover for you", Vance declared plainly, "_After_ that you and your wife will be put on trial…and we will make sure your help in turning this case around for us is considered."

Niv reached out and shook Vance's hand. "That is more than I could have expected."

"We keep Mossad off your track, that's that. With some luck, your wife won't do time and she and your son can get on with their lives. I won't guarantee any of that for you."

"I do not expect you to. It is time I take responsibility, I have known that for some time", Niv conceded, "Thank you, Director Vance."

"Don't thank me", Vance retorted off-handedly and pointed at Ziva, "Thank _her_."

Niv turned towards her. Tony was standing right next to her, his arm still protectively and supportively slung around her waist. Tony's face looked a little battered, he had some cuts topped with caked blood and deepening rings under his eyes. Otherwise he seemed fine enough and content. Gibbs looked somewhat the same. They were fine…finally.

"Why did you do this?", Niv asked, a note of disbelief ringing out.

"Because you did not do what you came here to do", she stated simply.

"But I did."

"You _stopped_…before you went through with it. Why shouldn't I?"

"There is no excuse for anything that I have done", he asserted simply.

"But there is penance", Ziva retorted definitely, "And for some of it…you have suffered enough." They both knew that she was talking about Claire and Steven and the time he had invested in pursuing a goal far beyond the family he could have had instead.

Niv huffed. "Revenge is blinding, is it not?"

"Of all the things that I have no answer to…I know _this_ to be entirely true." A small smile flickered across Ziva's face. Tony noticed and so did Gibbs.

"HaMa'eiven yavin." _Those who know understand._

"Atah tzodek." _You are right._

"Todah, Ziva."

Ziva nodded.

* * *

After Niv had left the squadroom for good, it fell silent for a moment. In that moment they all skipped to the possible bad turns that most bizarre of their cases could have taken - what it could have taken away from them. In the end it had been about the futility of revenge, really. And they were lucky, yes. But… _Who is to tell the difference between luck and fate, right?_

Vance left soon afterwards with an explicit nod towards Gibbs. They would have to field briefings and reports for some upcoming hours. Gibbs understood.

He turned to his team. "Go home, get some sleep", he called out somewhat good-naturedly. A faintly quick smile crossed his lips upon their joint drowsiness. He nodded towards McGee and Tony, "Tomorrow, zero eight hundred."

They both nodded.

With another nod Gibbs went over to Abby, kissed her temple and, taking a closer look at McGee, noted, "Tuck-in duty, Abs."

"I know", she smiled.

Then he moved towards Ziva. He put a hand on her shoulder and leaned in, whispering into her ear, "I'm proud of you."

An appreciative, choked-up smile settled on her face. He placed a kiss against her hair and left the bullpen to go upstairs. Ducky followed with a gracious nod.

Contemplative silence couldn't linger for long, however, as Abby tried to stand, half-pulling, half-pushing McGee up with her. "Come on, big boy, let's get you to bed."

"You come with me?", McGee hummed, sleep talking.

"Yeah, I'll come with you", Abby laughed, slinging his backpack over her shoulder and taking a hold of his arm in order to safely guide him to their car, "Bye guys!"

Tony and Ziva smiled, waved and suddenly they were the only ones left in the bullpen. Right then, right there they could do nothing but turn towards and look at each other. They couldn't voice what they were feeling, so they hoped their gazes would suffice. After some time Ziva reached up and tenderly touched Tony's chapped lip.

They kissed.

"I'll go get the kids and then we'll go home. Sound good?", Tony suggested quietly when they broke apart.

Ziva smiled and nodded. "Always does."

* * *

_Epilogue still coming your way - and it's a packed one! :) - until then: End of the case, tell me what you think!_


	30. With oneself, the world, the past

**Chap 30 With oneself, the world, the past  
**_or: The Epilogue_

_Saturday, November 23rd 2018_

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!", Tali yelled happily, running down the stairs, clad only in a red shirt.

A second later Tony, fully dressed himself, came jumping after her, underwear and pants in hand. Ziva laughed out loud. Tony looked as if Tali had put up a little stubborn fight despite the early morning and his early working hours. Moreover, he had spent half the night with Ziva on the couch, both alarmingly awake: Ziva because sleeping was still a painful feat and Tony because he was having a bout of standoff-aftermath-insomnia...as always, but that's another story.

When Tali arrived at her mother's temporary camp on the couch, she tried hiding behind Ziva's outstretched hand. Needless to say, the little girl wasn't very successful. Tony's eyes narrowed as he closed in on her and for the first time Ziva noticed the big grin on Tali's face and the feigned menace exuded by Tony.

"No escape, my little red jumping shirt. I'll come and get ya!", Tony called out in a faux threatening, crescendo voice.

"No!", Tali half-screeched, half-laughed. She looked up at Ziva, her big brown eyes hopeful for help.

"No can do, tateleh. Mommy cannot even stand up", Ziva turned her down sweetly, caressing the little girl's cheek, "But I have another idea."

Ziva beckoned Tali towards her and, considerate beyond her usual flamboyance, the little girl climbed up on the couch without coming close enough to Ziva's injuries to cause her any kind of pain. For a moment there Tony had been on the jump to scoop Tali away from her mother if necessary, but now he stood rooted to the floorboards beneath him in inquisitive curiosity.

Ziva whispered something into Tali's ear.

Tali snickered. Then she stood up with a little steadying from Ziva, turned towards her father and declared unceremoniously, "Me's a ninja...like mommy."

Ziva grinned at the ingenious display and Tony had a hard time stifling his laughter. Instead, he held up his hands in defeat, which caused Tali's pants to slip halfway over his face - and Tali and Ziva to chuckle.

"In that case, mia cara principessa... I surrender willingly", Tony conceded, bowed and turned Tali's clothes over to Ziva's outstretched hand.

He leaned in, however, and continued quietly, "You know the _biggest _secret about ninja's, though?"

Tali shook her head momentarily. Then she turned around and looked at her mother questioningly. Ziva, trying hard to retain a straight face, shrugged her shoulders innocently, causing Tali to transfer her look back to Tony.

"They _each_...have one, single with benefits, lonesome, no friends on _facebook_...weakness", Tony answered in a mysteriously deep voice.

Faster than his words could as much as register with Tali, he scooped the little girl up and started tickling her. Her hysteric laughter easily filled the silent apartment. Before her enthusiastic thrashing could become something more of a forceful wish to get away from him, however, Tony placed her back down on the couch next to Ziva. He ruffled her hair, avoided her slapping at his hand in mock aggravation with a semi-jump-mid-dance-routine and glided over into the kitchen.

Ziva watched Tali shake her head in utter seriousness and couldn't help but grin even more. "Daddy's silly, mommy", she declared decidedly, nodding along.

Ziva nodded. "He sure is."

"Daddy's not silly, my ladies, daddy's just learned to live alongside the ninja", Tony declared and leaned forward, dropping a small kiss on Tali's head. He stared into Ziva's eyes.

"Has he now?", she smirked.

"I'm a fast learner."

"I remember, yes."

Some parts of him could hardly stand - or rather the opposite - the seductive smile she had put on. It was safer to change the subject. "Pancakes are done and eligible. Everything else is set and ready for a default styled breakfast."

"Thank you."

"You sure I shouldn't wake David up. I mean, I could-"

"No. He had a rough night, let him catch up on some sleep", Ziva assured him, a cautious note woven through.

David had woken up twice last night and only gone back to sleep upon much reassurance and coaxing on both Ziva's and Tony's part. He was having nightmares again, Ziva was sure of it. But he wasn't even close to telling them about it. It seemed he was still trying to work through it somehow. And their lives were slowly settling down again and into a newfound rhythm - at least they both hoped so. Maybe that alone would help him.

"Now, will you tell me again why I have to come back here and get you to the Navy Yard before we go over there for the survive-party?", Tony asked for the hundredth time since that morning at five-thirty when Abby had called, claiming to have forgotten that it would be Tony waking up and answering Ziva's cell.

"_Because_...Abby and Tim have a surprise for us."

"And it's at the office? That's gotta be _some_ surprise..."

"Stop mocking the surprise and just get back here at one", Ziva retorted and finally caught his lips for a kiss.

"You okay here?"

"We have books, we have toys and I have the number of the delivery service. We should be fine."

"But you know you shouldn't-"

"Tony, it's okay. The case is over, so now I can make you very happy and treat myself as a porcelain unicorn."

"Thank you", he smiled, kissing her again, "I'll just have to object to 'the case being over'-part. You're not the one who has to come in and write out case reports on a Saturday morning."

"Ah...benefit of the ailing. That is how you wanted it, though", Ziva hummed, slightly patting his cheek.

"Yeah... I did", he smiled even broader.

* * *

It was almost time for lunch. Ziva had just called the pizza service. They had played various games that had afforded more or less of Ziva's attention all morning. They owed the current hiatus of bustle to the bathroom break Tali was taking. Ziva looked over at David. She hadn't realized how long his hair had already gotten, it was well covering his ears. She had to chuckle a little to herself for that kind of realization. She reached out her uninjured hand and put some strands of hair behind his ear.

"Are you okay, tateleh?", she asked softly.

David nodded without looking up at her.

Despite his reaction Ziva kept her eyes trained on him and a few heartbeats later he actually turned around to find her inquisitive gaze. "There was a _really_ bad man."

'_Bad man'_ certainly was putting it most delicately. The way it was phrased like a statement rather than a question surprised Ziva, though. She knew that David was startlingly attentive and that the last days' upheaval couldn't have passed him by without leaving implicit and some more explicit marks. And like that he was reminding her more and more every day of the little sister she once lost. Those violent truths would probably always be hard for him to grasp. But this time around she couldn't allow herself to fail. She wouldn't.

Ziva opened her arms a little and David slowly crept onto the couch, carefully snuggling into her side. She put her uninjured arm around him. "Why do you think that?"

"I donno... You and daddy weren't home much and- and we were at Sarah's really long. And we didn't see Uncle Tim and Auntie Abby and Uncle Gibbs lots- And... Mommy?", he looked up at her with his piercing green eyes that reminded her so much of Tony.

"Yes?"

"You was really scared yesterday in Auntie Abby's lab", he stated, half a question mark and half a full-stop hanging on the last syllable.

For a moment Ziva didn't know what to answer. She just kept stroking his hair, keeping her eyes locked with his. Then she sighed. "Yes... Yes, I was. I was scared because your daddy and your Uncle Tim and Uncle Gibbs were going after that..._really_ bad man", she answered cautiously.

His brows furrowed. "Why didn't you help 'em?"

"I couldn't, tateleh. I wanted to...but I am still a little too..._hurt_...to help them."

"But Uncle Gibbs says they are no good without you", David rebuffed, painting a small smile onto Ziva's face.

"They were just fine without me. The bad man is gone and nothing is going to happen to any of us", Ziva declared, kissing his forehead.

The little boy didn't seem fully convinced, though. He still looked at her with doubt written into his eyes. He turned his head deeper into her embrace, burying half of his face in the crook of her neck as if he was afraid she could let go of him at some point.

"No accidents 'n'more?"

Ziva sighed inwardly: She couldn't promise that. She would never be able to promise that. Those last three weeks had shown her that her life was at best not at all predictable. But good had come out of it, hadn't it? They had become more of a family in those three weeks than two previous years had had it in them to accomplish. Nevertheless, she couldn't promise her six-year-old son that there wouldn't be any accidents in the future, that nothing would happen to either one of them. She just couldn't promise him.

"No more accidents, tateleh", Ziva smiled, smoothing back his hair, "I promise."

* * *

**716 Sicard Street, S.E. - Washington Navy Yard**

Since the urgency level of their reports had been raised to an _'utmost'_-standard due to matters of diplomacy and foreign agencies involved in the periphery of the case, Tony and McGee had been working for hours to finish them up. Gibbs had been fielding outline and conduct testimonies up in MTAC all morning. Meanwhile, Director Vance was chaperoning some big-notch guest of uninvited honors in his office, claiming himself indispensible via Cynthia.

Early in the afternoon, right after a major cramp in his back had caused him to almost slip off his chair, Tony treated himself to a little break. McGee watched him step into the elevator and leaned a little to the side from where he was filing away some dossiers to catch his partner push the lowermost button. He frowned.

A few minutes later he found Tony leaning onto the banister in front of the main entrance. It was chilly outside. He stepped up to his friend of some fourteen years. When he looked over, he could see the same pensive expression he had seen inching onto Tony's face all day.

"Sometimes…_something _about her really creeps me out", Tony blurted out, "I mean, not _creepy _'creeping'. Not in a _Shining_ kind of way…more like _Arlington Road_. Lingering…"

McGee eventually joined him and propped his elbows up on the metal construction. "What do you mean?"

"She can be so totally…_nonchalant_ about things. When I told her she'd been the target of a kill-plot, she barely batted one of her pretty eyelashes. And what happened in So-"

Tony broke off, quickly shooting McGee a look that told him the rated version of what would have come without saying a word. McGee knowingly put it aside. "You always knew you can't change who she is, Tony", he declared.

"Yeah, I know. But she let a guy off who- who killed…her _sister_ of all people. And she didn't even as much as- I mean, she could have ripped his gut out and I'd have gladly shut the camera off for her", Tony mused into the cool, watching his breath freeze in front of him.

McGee let a small laugh drip from his lips. It did sound a lot like something Ziva would have done - _once_. That was the operative word, though, wasn't it? He couldn't help remember that day twelve years ago. It was one of Ziva's first days back in Washington and her first day back at the Navy Yard after Somalia, after they had rescued her out of there. He remembered their talk not far from where they were standing now, sitting on a small wall near a coffee booth.

_- "But that was all in the past and the past is the past."_

_- "Is it?"_

_- "Yes."_

"I guess…", McGee started slowly, "I guess, she's learned to forgive and let it be."

"I know", Tony returned definitely, "I know that. And don't get me wrong, I'm _so_ proud of her for getting there after what she's gone through, but-"

"Would you rather she'd gun him down in an alley behind your block?"

"No, McTact, that's not what I meant."

"Well, then maybe you should talk to her…and tell her that you are more freaked out about this than _she_ seems to be", McGee suggested, patting him on the back, "Don't worry, by now she knows all about your creamy surprises." He nodded, grinned and walked off.

Tony couldn't help but smile himself.

* * *

Ziva was holding Tali's hand as they approached the bullpen a few feet ahead of their two men. Stepping over the threshold of their working life, they found only Gibbs sitting at his desk and filling out forms. His sapphire blue orbs immediately shot up and a cheerful glint settled in them. When his eyes fell on Tony and David, he cast Ziva a questioning look. Tony was still doing some kind of impersonation with a cascade of different voices that he had started the moment they had stepped out of the car - and David was positively cracking up. By now, the little boy was roaring with laughter and Tony didn't show any inclination to stop anytime soon.

Ziva took a quick glance at them, then turned back around to face her boss with a thankful smile. "As long as it makes him happy…", she said, a laugh punctuating her gladness that Tony was indeed able to get David out of his quiet shell.

Gibbs nodded knowingly and instantly spun his attention towards Tali. He crouched down in front of her, smiling, "Haven't seen you in a while, princess."

"Missed ya", Tali exclaimed with a sigh, let go of Ziva's hand and flung her arms around Gibbs' neck.

He picked her up and kissed her temple, whispering into her ear, "Missed ya too."

"Hello Uncle Gibbs", David called out and hugged his appointed Uncle from the side.

"Hey buddy." Gibbs ruffled the little boy's hair.

"Uncle Gibbs?", David asked suddenly, his features growing serious as he pulled back.

When Gibbs looked down at him, he couldn't help but notice just how much of Ziva was conveyed through the little boy's eyes, that ever-thinking heaviness beneath their radiant color. Gibbs raised his eyebrows inquisitively and David beckoned him down towards him. Gibbs readily complied and kneeled down, Tali still safely in his arms.

David scooted closer and whispered into Gibbs' ear, "Thank you."

Gibbs turned to gaze at David with a puzzled expression on his face.

"For making mommy and daddy safe."

For a moment Gibbs was lost for words and he just kept looking at David, for whom that statement seemed like the most ordinary and off-hand thing in the world. Then he nodded, receiving a grateful smile from the little boy.

"So, where's that surprise I keep hearing about?", Tony cut in, really addressing no one in particular.

"Patience and ignorance have never been your strong suits", Ziva commented dryly, accepting his benevolent scowl with a simple smirk.

"I see the congregation has already gathered", Ducky remarked upon his sudden entry into the bullpen. He was closely followed by Jimmy.

Tony laughed. "Well, you know what they say about early birds."

"Flock together", Ziva substituted at once, receiving several arched eyebrows.

"Still…", Tony deadpanned.

Before they could even start debating Ziva's repeated verbal faux-pas, though, they were interrupted by heavy, plateau-induced footsteps approaching their scene. It wasn't too long before Abby's and McGee's heads turned up beyond the orange partitions. For some reason and without knowing why, the whole bullpen-gathering fell silent and all eyes set on its entrance in hope for the surprise of the afternoon to be soon uncovered. In all their anticipation, however, no one but Ziva could have guessed what happened next: The moment Abby's full frame was visible to her family's eyes the bundle in her arms swept up all their attention.

"Dear all", Abby announced in a hushed voice and arranged said bundle so they could verify for themselves, "Meet Liora Grace Sciuto-McGee."

The small gathering was soon gathered so close to the newly inaugurated mother-daughter-pair that McGee's arm almost unnoticeably shot out and wrapped itself protectively around his daughter and the arms of the woman he loved. That small gesture alone caused Tony and Ziva to meet in a small knowing glance and a small knowing smile.

Liora was wrapped in an orangey yellow blanket. By now she was barely twelve days old, small and buried deep into the folds of the fabric, but her face looked content as she slept peacefully through the buzz of her advent into a most unconventional family.

"She real?", Tali inquired innocently from where she was still perched against Gibbs.

"Sure is, princess", Gibbs answered, commending Abby with a proud smile that amplified her already radiating grin.

"Cans I touch her?"

"Very carefully, tateleh", Ziva nodded and smiled at her daughter.

Gibbs leaned in a little closer and Tali slowly reached out her hand, caressing the baby's cheek with almost unbeknownst caution. McGee's slightly apprehensive look softened immediately. When the baby stirred, however, Tali quickly withdrew her hand. Her face fell.

"It's okay, nothing happened. See?", McGee reassured the little girl at once, smiling and indicating his daughter, "She's still sleeping."

Tali took another close look, confirming her Uncle's assertion. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips, causing all adults around her to chuckle.

"She's too little to play, right?", David perked up finally, looking up at both of his parents.

"Right now you have to be very careful with her, can you do that?", Ziva answered.

The little boy nodded his head enthusiastically. After a final examination of that new addition to their family, David leant back against Ziva, allowing his mother to put her arms around him. He seemed content enough for now.

"Just let her get a little older, buddy. Knowing her mommy, you'll have a lotta fun with this one", Tony commented with a grin, receiving a mischievous one in return from Abby.

"Is Miss Liora Grace now officially part of our little clan?", Ducky asked, stroking the baby's head.

"We picked her up from the orphanage only an hour ago. We have her for the day…only some finishing touches on the paper work left", McGee explained, not taking his loving gaze from the sheer reality that was now his daughter.

"So, why'd you bring her here first?"

"I wanted her to meet her family right where all her family met", Abby stated easily, a note of loving reverence woven through the simplicity of her statement.

"I think, this calls for a celebration, doesn't it?", Ducky declared bluntly, cutting into the sweet silence of the moment with a beaming smile on his face.

"Wasn't there talk about some kind of fest back at your place?", Jimmy put in giddily, waving off a few scowls that immediately zoomed his way.

"Right on, Jim-ster. Zero four hundred." Abby beamed at them.

"Still enough time to prep then", Tony cracked, a grin adorning his face.

That grin, however, briefly lost its radiance when his eyes fell on the person watching their exchange from the upstairs landing. He couldn't believe it: Eli David, in the flesh. Tony quickly turned his attention back to the people around him, but none of the others seemed to have taken any notice of Ziva's father, all of them seemed unperturbed, too caught up in their current reality. Tony quickly scanned the perimeter. The back elevator led down into the garage, the front elevator ended in the lobby. No wonder Vance had been cooped up in his office since early in the morning. A visit from the Director of Mossad certainly wasn't a social call. Tony doubted it had garnered Eli a parking space right outside the main entrance either.

When Tony finally jerked out of his sudden stupor, their little family-group was already disbanding and Ziva was looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised high above suspicion-level. Years with the master of covertness herself did pay off at times, though. He passed her initial scan with special, nonchalant bravado. Rather than caving, he handed her the car keys.

"You and the kids go on, I still gotta sign off on the final report. Catch up with you in a sec?", he suggested easily.

Ziva took the keys with another suspicious glance, but decided to let it go. The moment she was out of sight with the kids, Tony turned his gaze back upstairs but only caught the seam of Eli's jacket. Without thinking twice, Tony lunged towards the back elevator. He punched the button just in time. Mere seconds later the elevator doors slipped aside and he came face to face with Eli David.

The doors had just shut close behind him when Tony hit the switch and the elevator jerked to a halt. Eli looked pensively curious but not at all surprised to encounter his quasi-son-in-law.

Tony didn't lose an ounce of breath, starting immediately, "I know it must look strange to you, all the love and affection-"

"No, not at all."

It was Tony's turn, however, to look mildly surprised.

"I know you want me to be a straight-out bastard to accustom your view of the world", Eli declared matter-of-factly in that calm, almost slurring whisper of his voice, "But I am not."

"It's all about perspective."

Eli simply disregarded his comment. "When Ziva's mother died, her little sister was only four years old."

"Thank God you're here", Tony snapped, "Where else would I get my redundant history lessons from?"

"I know of your…_provoking_ methods, Agent DiNozzo. You forget, I fell for them once."

"Now, that's where you are _so_…wrong", Tony retorted slowly, "That's an episode of my life I will _never_ forget."

A fiercely faint smile crossed Eli's lips. "Ziva was like a mother to her until Tali's untimely death. I know, better even than Ziva knows herself…that Tali's compassion could only blossom through her devoted care. Ziva may have inherited my power of will, but she has her mother's heart of gold."

"Saying it like that…with that half-smile on your face, your eyes lost in memories… You almost seem human", Tony remarked derisively, cocking his head a little to the side.

"I know my children."

"Child, Eli. It's _child_. You have only one outta three left."

For a moment Tony thought he recognized something akin to remorseful anger flaring behind Eli's near-stoic expression. Tony knew he was pushing dangerous buttons, but he didn't believe in coincidences. Years with Gibbs had taught him that. And that he had been the only one to notice Eli David on that top landing must have had its reasons. He would make some reasons, if he had to.

Eli took a diminutive step back, bracing an arm against the handrail on each side. "With Tali alive Ziva would have never entered the Mossad as far as she did, not while she had to care for her little sister", Eli relayed heavily, his jaw dropping a few times during his account, "Ziva is a loving mother, there is no doubt in my mind about that. And I would not want it any other way. I have always hoped for grandchildren…to have _her_ as their mother."

"Talk about purpose disorder", Tony rebuffed, his sardonic lightness ebbing away as he prepared himself to ask the one question that had been bothering him for twelve years, "Why Somalia? Why send her on a suicide mission?"

"I know you do not want to see me as a father. I know it does not fit into the profile you have of me. I know you think I wanted to _punish_ Ziva for her change of loyalty", Eli explained cautiously, "I always knew, _because_ of Tali, that Ziva's heart was susceptible. But when your Agent Gibbs left her at that airport and when she could not be sure about your true motives as to Officer Rivkin's death, there was nothing I could have done to punish her more."

"You almost got your only daughter killed, because- What? In that flock of underlings you couldn't find _one_ who had a strong enough death wish?", Tony snarled, feelings boiling up his esophagus, feelings he didn't know he was still harboring after all those years.

"What makes you think that Ziva did not have that kind of…_death wish_ as you call it?", Eli snapped, his voice gaining that thriving basso that almost had the inside of the elevator vibrating with sheer force.

"A little out of her mind maybe, yes… I'll give you that. But she's never had- She never had a death wish. Never."

"And I did not want her dead, Tony."

Silence settled for a few heartbeats as Eli took off his glasses, cradling them in his hands. They looked at each other. The one was Ziva's ambiguous emotional torment, the other was the love of her life - and each was a little bit of both but different.

"Nobody…could have come as close to Saleem as Ziva, nobody is as good as her. Nobody could have survived", Eli continued more calmly than before, "And Saleem had to pay for what he did. He was an immediate threat to my country and my family. He had to be dealt with, he had to die. Ziva was my country's and my family's best chance at that…at _any_…cost."

"Her life."

Eli nodded. "My duty has always come before my personal feelings, Agent DiNozzo. Maybe that is a belief you will never be able to understand, it certainly is a belief you do not share. Nor does Ziva, not anymore. _Nothing_ comes before her family, I know that", there was a strange, unknown undertone in those last few words Tony couldn't exactly pinpoint, "But Somalia was a job to be done and Ziva was a means to that end."

"Then why didn't you save her?" It was the second most quintessential question of them all. And Tony wanted answers; once and for all. "Why didn't you rescue her out of that desert?"

"I did everything I would have done for every other officer. I increased activity, I sent men down there. They tried to find her", Eli asserted defiantly, straightening back up.

"Why didn't you treat her like a daughter? Why didn't you do that little bit more?", Tony kept at it just as defiantly. He seemed disbelieving; maybe he just wanted a kind of clarity Ziva was still searching for all on her own, without Eli.

"Because she would not have returned to me even if I had."

* * *

**245 Prowress Avenue, N.E. - Hôtel Empereur**

A part of Ziva couldn't believe she was doing what she was doing - the more dominant part of her just went along with it. It wasn't that he was completely cut off from her life. They talked on occasion, very infrequent occasions. Almost a year had passed since she had gone to Israel for Adena's funeral, leaving the kids with their Aunt and Uncle. She had even stayed at the mansion back then. They had had breakfast together once. They had talked. Since then, however, she had called but once when Nettie had been in the hospital. Their topical repertoire wasn't very elaborate anyway. They both carefully avoided any subject they knew they were disagreeing on, any subject of too deep an emotional substance and any subject of national or international affairs. It didn't leave much more than an in-depth comparison of the weather in Tel Aviv and Washington.

They had come to an understanding. They had fallen out with each other and they had taken miniscule steps back towards each other. Slowly and gradually, Ziva had come to the dire conclusion that Eli simply wasn't the father she needed him to be. Maybe she had known that for a long time. The difference between herself now and herself a few years ago was the understanding that, despite his many shortcomings as a father, he wasn't substitutable. There was something beautifully and yet terrifyingly imminent about kinship. You couldn't throw it off, it was an imprint no matter what you did. She had finally realized that.

Ziva was very grateful for the lack of stairs in the lobby and went straight for the elevators, driving up to the eighth floor. She followed the gold-rimmed plagues on the wall. When she turned the second corner to the right, she stopped. She laughed inwardly. Two men were slouched on settees on separate ends of the corridor, one reading a book, the other listening to music. A woman was standing by the window, ostensibly waiting for someone.

Ziva slowly approached the room she was looking for, aware of the cautious movements around her. The moment she was standing in front of room 808 she could feel all three of them closer than comfort-level. Ziva turned around with arched eyebrows. Judging from the contorted expressions on their faces, at least two of them recognized her.

"Le'an at nose'at?"

"Don't worry, I did not come to harm him", Ziva declared coolly, not budging, "Which cannot be said for you if you don't let me pass."

They didn't know that she was practically incapable of fighting given that she didn't wish to tear apart every healing bone in her body - and she certainly wouldn't tell them. The highest ranking one of them gave a short jolt of a nod and they each returned to their leisure surveillance posts while Ziva easily slipped into the room: They always used doors with outmoded key-locks so that in case of emergency there wasn't a card- or chip-coded door to pick first.

Eli was just passing the foyer with the paper in hand when his eyes fell on Ziva standing there, her hands joined in front of her body. He set his forehead in wrinkles but his mouth remained in a thin, nonchalant line. He straightened up, nodding a little along.

"I was not sure I could expect you", he remarked calmly.

Ziva took a few steps forward. "Neither was I", Ziva retorted just as evenly, "In _your_ case, however, I must have misconstrued the amount of time you spent watching us from upstairs."

"Still, you let him believe he was the only one who noticed me."

"We all act on different impulses. Speaking of which…", Ziva stated bluntly, taking another step into the faintly sun-flooded interior, "Why are you here?"

Eli smacked his lips. "The issue of a former officer's killing spree warrants making it a more personal matter."

"So, you wanted to make sure Niv would be taken care of", she corrected matter-of-factly, not expecting any kind of return - as conveyed by the deep timbre her voice ended on.

"It is a short trip, I am afraid", Eli continued, indicating the couch in the center of the room, "Do you want to sit?"

"This is going to be a short trip", Ziva deadpanned, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I see Tony's attitude has left its marks." Eli went over to the couch and leaned against its back. "I understand you were injured in a car accident."

Ziva turned her face away from him for a moment and glanced out of the bay windows making up the far wall of the room. "I had worse", she commented quietly, returning with her amber eyes to his probing gaze.

"You are okay now."

"I have not had the time _not_ to be…yet."

"It appeared like that time will soon come then."

Ziva started to nod but stopped herself. Instead, she furrowed her brows, her gaze clear as ever. "Do not pursue Peled. He is no threat. It is…not worth it", she asserted off-handedly, "If I can forgive Niv for Tali's death…_you_ can forgive the world for Ima's."

Yes, Leon had not been forthcoming with any kind of useful information, but somehow the whole of Mossad would have found Niv Peled - now that his guard was down, now that he was officially being prosecuted. Eli looked at her for a long time and for a brief second she could see his dark eyes inflame with the pain of loss he so seldom allowed himself. Right there she knew that he wouldn't go through with his initial plan of tracking Niv and his family down. He would stop it right then and there.

Composure returned to Eli's demeanor. He sighed and took off his glasses. "Do you think…", he started slowly, "I might get to meet my grandchildren one day?"

"And bring them along to the next funeral?", Ziva answered sadly. It was a dire fact, not meant as an insult.

"A holiday maybe-"

"The door to them has never been closed for you."

"Haifa. You have not been to Haifa in a long time."

Ziva sighed inwardly. She had toyed with the thought of showing Tali and David the country she had grown up in more often than she liked to admit. She was American now, yes, but that didn't change the fact that Israel still felt like home. David was six years old and had never met his maternal grandfather. Maybe this was the time to forgive Israel for the deaths of all those she had loved and give it another chance.

"You know", Eli started again on a much softer note, tugging her out of her reverie, "I always hoped for grandchildren in a safer world, Ziva."

Ziva took a moment to breathe. "I know."

"Not like…_this,_ but I always hoped-"

"I know, Abba."

* * *

**26 Celtics Avenue**

Gibbs stepped out of his car, its yellow color glowing a little in the faint afternoon sun. He sauntered up the little driveway, took two steps at once and landed right in front of a massive, engraved mahogany door. Despite there being a bell right next to where he was standing, he chose to announce his arrival with three short knocks. Not even half a minute later Ducky opened the door from the other side, already clad in his coat and his hat in hand.

"On the dot", the older man commented lightly.

"I know how you like your dates on time." Gibbs smirked.

"Ah…Whitney…", Ducky scoffed while locking the door behind him, "Obliquely, that was not the only reason for me to…_let_ her go." He gave Gibbs a sideways glance of past mischievousness as they walked down the steps.

"You told her to go to hell, Duck", Gibbs deadpanned in return.

"Among other well-intended suggestions as to her lack of social skills."

Gibbs tilted his head a little to the side, his smirk returning.

"All those kids around… They make us feel old, don't they, Jethro?", Ducky remarked off-handedly.

"Or young again."

"Yes, well… I have been thinking", he finally opened the car door, a soft sigh ringing through his account, "Uncle by ascription, Medical Consult, retiree, bachelor… It seems, the more I am branching out, the more I wish to go back to the roots one of these days."

"Yeah?", Gibbs jerked his head back and smiled, "You by any chance need a boat for that?"

* * *

**West Clark Street - Apartment 7**

Ziva was acutely lost in thought when she entered the apartment. A minute later she found herself standing in the doorway to the kitchen without remembering how she even got there. Tony was leaning against the counter sifting through bills when he noticed her and the obviously preoccupied expression on her face. It didn't falter either, so he chose to initiate her mental return to the scene.

"Where've you been?", he inquired evenly.

She just stared at him. "Out."

"Out how?"

"Cab", she answered colorlessly, "Where are the kids?"

"Upstairs, looking for a _welcome-to-the-craze_ present for their cousin in extension", he smiled, remembering their heated debate from just a few minutes ago, "Out where?"

She finally looked at him - as in actually seeing him. Her eyes set into focus. Apparently, she had just come to a conclusion for herself. "Family…business."

He nodded. "I thought you didn't see him duck out of Vance's office…"

She arched her eyebrows, crossing the small distance between them.

They both knew they would talk about his little elevator-encounter at a later time, but right now they each needed to deal with each decision they had made today. He smiled and nodded again as silence settled between them for a moment. Then he noticed the clock. "Look, we still got at least half an hour before we need to leave."

"Didn't Abby say to come by around four? It _is_ four o'clock, you know."

"Yeah…I know." He grinned.

He watched her fill a glass of water and taking a prescribed compilation of pills in quick succession, emptying the glass. His eyes narrowed inadvertedly as he fought the urge to instigate something he wasn't sure wouldn't end in a painful reminder. But maybe she had just returned from a place that was more of a reminder than anything he could do. Before he could say anything, however, Ziva turned around to gaze at him. Her face was set still in determination.

"I don't want to hold onto that anymore", she stated at once.

Tony opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came at first. He cleared his throat. "Ziva, he killed your sister", he started quietly, "Your little _sister_. Don't tell me this means nothing to you, because I know it does. Of all people- Our only daughter's name isn't Talia because we liked the sound of it."

Ziva shook her head slightly. "I was raised in a culture of revenge. All I've ever _been_ was revenge. Revenge for the wrongdoings of history…our joint one and my own. I am tired of feeling as if I am _obligated_…to want revenge."

"But why can't you just allow yourself to grieve for her once in a while?"

"I do", she asserted definitely, "Not a day goes by that I do not think of what her life could have been like…how my life could have been different if she was still alive. But what I felt when Niv- I did not feel _grief_, I felt rage…at first-"

"That's normal, for heaven's sake", Tony cut in resolutely, stepping closer to her, "Kübler-Ross, five stages, blaming the world. It's normal, look it up."

A miniscule smile tugged at Ziva's lips. She loved him, she loved him for the moments he wanted to serve her a recipe for happiness on a golden platter. But it wasn't about happiness. "Niv's confession does not change the fact that my little sister is dead, Tony", she explained calmly, "It only changed the person on whom to take revenge. And I do not _want_ to. I _won't_."

For a while they just stayed silent, looking into each other's eyes, probing. Then he tilted his head to the side. "Well, so much for a trip to the desert."

He smiled weakly, almost unsure if he had gone a bit too far with the sore subjects of her past. But Ziva merely took a last step towards him, put a gentle hand on the side of his face and guided him down to kiss her. They were both smiling when they pulled apart.

"Nice set-up", he started again, still loving her hand on his cheek, "'Cause I gotta tell you something...it's kinda important."

Her look immediately grew suspicious. Tony usually didn't talk about important issues quickly and in-between. They both liked an appropriate setting for the more serious discussions. So, maybe, it wasn't up for discussion anymore.

"I've been thinking about it ever since I got back. Then the accident happened…and the case happened, obviously. And you and the kids- I think it would be best- I mean, I _know_- I decided to…I- I want to stay. I mean, I _will_. I already talked to Vance. I will, I _will_ stay. I stay", he rambled, looking for understanding beneath her confused stare.

"You…stay", she summed up, still not sure what exactly he was telling her.

"I won't go back to Spain, I won't go back to my unit in Rota", he finally declared with steadfast determination, "I'll come back here, to the Washington office, take my old position as Senior Field Agent. Who knows… I mean, Gibbs isn't the youngest anymore-"

"You stay?", she repeated.

"I stay."

"You know, it is easier now with the kids. They are older. We could come with you if you wanted-"

"No", he cut in unquestionably, "This is home, this is where all our family is. I get that now. I don't wanna uproot them. I mean, I know it won't be the same…especially when Gibbs _does_ retire…for _real_ this time. But all that's happened… It taught me- It showed me to appreciate what I got…the _hard_ way."

Ziva took a few heartbeats to digest that turn of events. This definitely needed more talking about, but for the moment she was just simply and honestly happy. She reached up again and brought his lips upon hers, this time deepening the kiss. He was careful not to hurt her when he pulled her even closer.

"Mommy's eatin' daddy!", Tali called out with obvious disgust lacing her voice.

This time they broke apart laughing.

* * *

**94 Hulland Drive - Apartment 2**

Given that they usually located their bigger and more elaborate get-togethers at Ducky's mansion, Abby's and McGee's living room had never seen the whole lot of them gathered around in such confined space. It didn't matter, though. It was half past five in the afternoon on a Saturday.

Tali was sprawled out on the floor with her Uncle Gibbs, watching him with intent curiosity as he was putting together a little miniature boat piece by piece from what looked like exaggerated versions of Lego-blocks. David, Ducky and Jimmy were playing a guessing game Jimmy had just whipped up the rules for - their cheerful inconsistency Ducky had a verbal feat complaining about, happily posing as David's personal comic relief.

Meanwhile, Abby sat on the couch in the middle of the room with Liora in her arms, who was contently quiet and obviously trying to take in all that was around her. Ziva and Tony were flanking them, their eyes trained on the baby girl, watching her with awe and a scent of reminiscence lingering between them. McGee was slouched on the floor by Abby's feet, gazing up at mother and daughter with a mixture of admiration and disbelief.

In his lap rested a nameless stuffed tiger that looked a little battered by reality. It was the same stuffed tiger Gibbs had brought to the hospital when he had visited Ziva after David's birth. It had thus stayed in David's possession until, at two years old, he had devotedly given it to his little newborn sister Tali. Now, three years later both kids had unanimously decided that the tiger was now Liora's to have.

"We'll get her back to the orphanage later in the evening and finish up the paper work", Abby explained quietly, her eyes not leaving the baby in her arms.

"And come Monday, we'll be parents", McGee added softly.

Tony and Ziva each shot him a swift, smiling glance. He looked and sounded as if he had been practicing that same sentence for hours, days even to make it roll off his tongue as effortlessly and believably as it just had. He still had a hard time believing it, and so did Abby. But it was true, truly and entirely. They were finally parents. Ziva and Tony met in a content smile.

Suddenly, Liora's eyes got stuck on Tony and he took it as a legitimate cue for baby-talk. "Hey there, baby girl. I'm your Uncle Tony, a.k.a. the cool one", he cooed sweetly, "Your dad and I will have a field day chasing off those per-"

"Tony", McGee cut in sharply, but couldn't suppress the smile the word _'dad'_ in distinct connection with himself had just painted on his face.

Tony chuckled innocently and patted McGee on the back. "I gotta say, Tim, though… You two make really pretty babies. You should go all Brangelina on the world, adopt your way through it."

On Abby's other side Ziva's eyebrows rose indefinitely. "_Who_ is…Brangelina?", she asked irritably.

Tony scoffed mock-disbelievingly, trying to _'duh'_-voice his way through a sensible explanation. "Brangelina? Honey, for the life of us I will never be able to figure out what stuff they thought was more important in those citizenship exams. Brad and Angelina? Still going strong after years and years of-" When he noticed Ziva's baffled expression, he merely added, "-no?"

"Why would _anyone_…put their names together like that?", she retorted doubtfully.

"To show the world their love for each other, sweet cheeks", Tony explained eagerly, "So, you know… That would make McGee and Abby over here…like… _McAbby _or something."

"And us?" Ziva smirked.

A grin broke out in his face as he called out gloriously, "Tiva!"

"Just that no one actually cares if Tiva and McAbby get their happy endings, Tony", McGee remarked bluntly, a smile tugging at his lips, "No mock intended."

Tony's continuing grin couldn't be disrupted, though. Enthused, he merely threw his arms to the side. "Ah… McRealist! Got a little Truman in you?"

* * *

_You have come to the end of this story now - whenever 'now' is. Regardless, please take a moment and leave a final comment! And finally, I would like to point out that there is a **SEQUEL** in progress called **'THE IDES OF TIME'** - I invite you to take a read._


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